And We're Doing This Because?
by Noelerin
Summary: Revised and completed! Amazing, huh? Buffy HP Crossover. 2nd Season BtVS. 6th Year HP. I don't know how else to describe it. AU. Secrets, lies, spies, family, and the final battlewith resolution even. R&R.
1. Heigh ho, here we go

And We're Doing This Because?

Disclaimer: I don't own them in anyway, shape, or form. I am just playing with them. Oh, I suppose that I should state where exactly my puppets have come from, shouldn't I? Okay, well, mainly they are from Buffy and my favorite Harry Potter peoples. (So here's a fair warning for all of you, I like, (I mean really like), Professor Severus Snape. Handle it or don't, I could care less.)  
Rating: G to PG.  
Genre: A little bit of everything if the muse strikes me. Mainly a bored piece, and plot less too. Totally AU, though it has parts of GoF, OotP, HBP, and DH in it.  
Pairings: Undecided, but doesn't really matter.  
Author's Note: I read through this recently and realized that there were some rather awkward parts. Hopefully, I fixed them. _crosses fingers_

654321

Hogwarts:  
Sixth Year.

"You can't be serious!" Professor McGonagall whispered to Professor Dumbledore.

"On the contrary, Professor, I think it's an excellent idea. Wouldn't you agree, Severus?" He turned to face the potions master, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

The dark eyes of Professor Snape slowly turned towards him, reluctantly breaking eye contact with one Harry Potter. Though he would never admit to it aloud, he had no idea what they were talking about but was sure it had nothing to do with potions. "I highly doubt that my opinion means much in this situation, Headmaster," he drawled in that silky voice of his, turning back to his favorite past time-Potter baiting.

The twinkle grew in those eyes. "Oh, but, my dear boy, I'm afraid it does."

His eyes narrowed as he turned to face Albus again. It was a look his students knew well and feared for good reason. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if Professor Lupin does take his sixth year classes to Sunnydale, you will be going along with him. As added supervision, of course."

Severus thought that it was a good thing that his hands weren't currently holding anything, they surely would've been destroyed because they were clenched together so tightly. "And why would I want to do that?" The voice was low and deadlier than he'd ever used before on the headmaster, on anyone for that matter. Professor McGonagall gasped but he ignored her. "Professor Lupin knows how to brew his own potion. I've drilled it into his thick skull enough times and, as he is slightly more intelligent about potions than my students could ever hope to be, he should be able to do it without any supervision."

"I'll take that as a compliment, since it came from you, Severus," Remus said, careful to hide his amusement about this situation by sipping some water. He was curious as to why Dumbledore would ask this of the Potions Master. It was no secret that they didn't get along, despite the fact that he had tried to mend fences between them ever since he'd returned to Hogwarts to teach. And it was on Severus' word that he would make sure that he was no danger to the children by making sure he took the potion every night that had swayed the Board of Governors to Albus' side.

"Ah, but no one here understands a Hellmouth quite like you do, dear boy." Dumbledore pointed out, smiling genially. "There are forces that gather in that place that Remus knows nothing of."

"The Hellmouth?" Remus whispered, shocked, throat suddenly parched though he'd been sipping his water. He'd heard of such things, but it had been a long time since anyone had seriously spoken about them. Now that it had been mentioned, it made sense that Severus was being asked to go with him. When they were in school, Snape had written a few papers supporting the theory that there were other planes of existence on this earth, natural ones, not created in the world but out of it the way the wizarding homeland was.

Most of the students had laughed at him, but James had been intrigued by the idea. He could clearly recall the way the two young men had bonded because of their discussions. Then the night in the Shrieking Shack happened and the two had never really talked again, though James had desperately tried to reopen the lines of communication. It was something James never quite seemed to forgive Sirius for.

Severus gritted his teeth in frustration. The memory was clearly still sharp in his mind. "So get him a book. He can read and search for information on the phenomenon, can't he?"

"Of course he can, it is not his research ability that I am concerned about. It is..."

Dumbledore began only to be interrupted when his potions teacher shoved his chair back and stood up. "Then I'll loan him a few from my study and give him some pointers. Good night." Black cape swirling behind him, he disappeared around the corner.

"That didn't go very well at all, did it?" Minerva commented, hiding her relief. She was far from comfortable with the idea of sending the children away from the school especially since Voldemort's return.

"It is an omen, I tell you. An bitter omen of evil things to come," Professor Trelawney tittered, looking at the headmaster. "You should listen to what they are saying, this trip is a bad idea."

The headmaster leaned back with a sigh, a slight smile twisting his lips. "Don't worry, my children, he'll go." He seemed utterly unconcerned by what had occurred and the teachers were silent knowing that he was up to something.

Harry sat between Hermione and Ron, watching it all with a confused expression on his face. One minute he and his teacher had been staring at each other, engaged in their usual silent battle of wills, then the headmaster had ended it by turning the professor's attention away from him. Snape then got angry about something that had amused Dumbledore. He had a sinking feeling that it had something to do with him, though he couldn't figure out what it could possibly be.

In his double potions class the next day, Harry waited along with the rest of the Gryffindors (and more than a few nervous Slytherins) for the boom to descend. That his own house was terribly nervous was a sign that his mood must be far worse than anything they'd yet experienced from their unpredictable teacher. When nothing happened, they left the class shaken and terrified, unsure about just what they were supposed to do.

Professor Snape had not made one negative comment to them-not even when Neville melted his cauldron for what had to be the 1,000th time-that year. He had just sighed and gestured for the boy to watch Hermione do the potion, and told him to take careful and very detailed notes which he would collect at the end of class. No points were taken from Gryffindor and he had okayed all of their potions.

Remus tried hard to get their attention, but felt a deep frustration when they continued to sit in a zombielike manner. "I'll be right back. Hermione, would you watch the class? Draco, would you mind helping her?" They nodded their acquiescence, eyes dull and it propelled him into action.

So now he was storming down the hall, not really aware where he was going. Right now, he was letting his emotions lead him along to the dungeons. One push and the door slammed against the wall. Standing in the entryway, he glared down at Severus Snape, who merely looked mildly upset at the interruption. "What did you do to them?" Remus demanded, shaking with anger.

That eyebrow of his rose, he turned to the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff prefects. Immediately standing, they approached his desk, fear in their eyes. He handed them his notes, a thin smile on his face. "Watch the class, teach them this and nothing but this. This shouldn't take long. When I return, I will test this class on every detail outlined in my notes. If I receive contradictory stories, you all will be subjected to Veriteserum until I get at the truth. Do I make myself clear?"

He didn't wait for an answer, gesturing for Remus to come into his office. The door closed behind him and he cast a partial silencing spell. They would hear the class-but the class would not hear anything they said. "Now, Professor Lupin, if you would be so kind as to explain that little comment of yours, I'd appreciate it. After all, it must be something important because you left your class to interrupt mine."

"I have been trying to teach my class-the one you just finished with," Lupin began, struggling to regain control over himself. It was rather hard when the man just stood there, arms crossing his chest, waiting with that infuriating eyebrow raised imperiously. When he saw Severus start to speak, he rushed on. "They are sitting there as if someone had hexed them."

"And, of course, you thought of me. I'm flattered that you think that I could inspire them to ignore your very important lessons on how to defeat boggarts and the like." The sneer in his voice was more blatant than it had ever been. "Contrary to popular belief, Lupin, I do not actually follow through with any of my threats to the students-though there have been cases when I wished to make exceptions. But I have never done so. I terrify my students, yes. It does the lazy brats good to have someone keep them on their toes rather than pamper to their every whim. But I do not actually hex or harm them-that would be far to easy and serve no actual purpose in the long term sense. I was a model of behavior today-even after Neville destroyed my property for the one-thousandth time this year alone. I retained control over my temper and have ordered a special cauldron for that boy, one that he won't be able to destroy. I have no idea why your students are sitting in a stupor."

He moved to the door but Remus blocked his path. "What is it now, werewolf?" Exasperated.

"That won't work on me anymore, Severus. You've done to good a job fine tuning my potion for those words to mean anything," Remus' voice was quiet. "Are you telling me that you behaved yourself in a manner that they are unaccustomed to?"

"Very good. You know how to listen and summarize my words, do you want a medal?" He semi-applauded, then dropped the act, suddenly very tired. "Remus, if you have nothing further to discuss with me, I suggest that we get back to our respective classes before someone thinks I've killed you. I am in no mood to handle Black and his homicidal tendencies towards my person."

"In a minute," Remus continued to ponder Snape's words and the implications behind them. "They aren't used to you being so kind to them."

Severus snorted. "That was not even in the realm of being humorous. I am anything but kind."

"Well, kinder than they know you to be," Remus reasonably pointed out, with a look that clearly said he knew that, while he was no angel, Severus was a kind person. "Do me a favor, go yell at them or something so that I can teach."

The potions master stepped back, eyes wide with disbelief. For a moment, he felt like laughing hysterically. "Let me get this straight. You, who have been trying to get me to be kinder and gentler to all my students-especially one Harry Potter, now wants me to go into your classroom and rip into them so they'll pay attention? Has that potion finally killed what passed as your brain?"

"No. I just never realized how much fire they get from being in your class," he mused, looking at him thoughtfully. "The Gryffindors rankle under the injustice you deal them. The Slytherins have a hero in you. They know that they can turn to you, they trust you. You give them an alternative by your belief in them. A belief that no one else in the school shares. I finally understand the method to your madness, Severus."

His eyes rolled, exasperated. "I hope you don't expect me to agree with such a cockamamie theory but if it gets you off my back, then you go right ahead and believe it. Let's get this ridiculous charade over with, shall we?"

"Doesn't work, Severus. I see it now, Lily was right about you all along," Remus said, before following him out into the classroom. It was a long, silent walk to the DADA rooms but if he was right, then everything would soon be normal.

Severus stopped and looked at Remus, a question in his eyes at the silence in the room. "Are you sure they stayed here and didn't take off? Harry Potter is in that class, after all."

Without responding, Remus opened the room and both teachers walked in. The students still sat as though they were carved in stone, staring down at their books.

"See what I mean? I can't work with this." He gestured at them, a grim look on his face.

Snape nodded, though he personally found their lack of movement refreshing. Unfortunately, if he wanted to stay at Hogwarts, he needed to rectify this rather curious happening. "Now isn't this an astounding sight, a class that actually knows how to behave when the teacher is away...Or did someone sneak in and hit you all with a petrificus totalus and you all forgot the counter curse? Why am I not surprised, this class does have Gryffindors in it, though I would have expected better of my Slytherins."

Remus was unprepared for the venom in the voice but shoved aside his guilt. He couldn't teach a bunch of zombies, this behavior couldn't be tolerated now that Voldemort was back. The class shook as though awakening from a trance or deep sleep, the Slytherins started to smile victoriously as their Head of their House stalked into the room. The Gryffindors felt a stir of something...it wasn't quite anger but it wasn't fear. It was something else. Hermione and Draco sprang away and glared venomously at each other.

"How very interesting that you would all drop your guards like that, especially when you have the double trouble team of Potter and Weasley in the room." Leaning over their shoulders, he hissed into their ears, though everyone could hear him. "Are you boys losing your touch? And at such young ages too. You'll forgive me if I don't find it that a great loss. Many of us will sleep better at night knowing that our offices will never be invaded again by your greedy little hands again."

"It wasn't us," Harry snapped, glaring up at his nemesis.

"Really?" Snape stood, towering over them, arms crossing his chest. That infuriating eyebrow of his rose once more. "Then maybe you wouldn't mind telling me who it was?"

Harry remained silent.

"Or does your famous Gryffindor courage condone theft?" He turned to leave, suddenly pausing to turn and look back at them, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for Neville's pathetic excuse for notes and fifty more for Mister Potter's reluctance to right a wrong done against me."

Remus sighed silently, torn between relief and anger at what he had allowed be done. He watched his class turn back into the children he missed. The murmurs of 'injustice' and 'you got exactly what was coming to you' reached his ears. _Whether you realize it or not, Severus Snape, you are an important part of their lives. They need that adversary, and hero, in you to get by_. He thought absently, _in a sense, I think we all do_.

654321

Sunnydale:  
Junior Year.

Willow put down "_A Wrinkle In Time_" with a bored sigh, having read it for the sixth time in three days and stared at the white ceiling. _It needs to be painted_, she idly thought. She was bored out of her very intelligent mind and seriously considered calling Cordelia just to hear another human voice-even one that delighted only in reminding her of just how pathetic her life had become.

The monotony of life in Sunnydale only existed when the Watcher's Council visited from England to _examine the efficiency_ of Giles' ways of teaching his Slayer-especially since he adamantly refused to give her the Slayer handbook. The Slayer being the one and only Buffy Summers and one of her best friends. They were friends, a fact that irritated the council to no end. They had agreed to stay away from Hellmouth activities for Buffy and Giles' sakes.

"A slayer" she could almost hear their snide voices, "has no need of friends. Human contact only contaminates the purity of the relationship that must exist between the slayer and her watcher."

"I'd love to teach them a thing or two about _contamination_ and I'd bet they would choke. Stupid pricks," she muttered, viciously punching her pillow. Flopping back down on her bed, she stared up at the ceiling. "I guess if I squint really hard, the stucco on my ceiling actually looks like a bunch of clouds. Oh, look-there goes mountain goat now, chasing after that runaway flower he looked forward to eating for dinner."

"Talking to yourself? That's not a good sign, Willow mine. Though as long as those voices don't answer, I suppose you're safe enough," Xander commented, leaning against the wall of her bedroom, watching her curiously. "You know, I think you're going about as crazy as the rest of us-if not more since you have a tremendous brain."

"Tremendous?" she questioned, eyebrow quirked. "Careful, Xander, you're beginning to sound like a walking encyclopedia. Someone may think you actually pay attention in school, then where would your career as a fast food serviceman be?" Tying up the laces on her boots, she stood and followed him out the door.

"You think you're so cute, don't you?" Xander mock pouted, pleased to see the bounce back in his friend's step.

Locking the door, she glanced up at him with a teasing smile. "And you don't?"

"Hmmm...if I say no, are you going to hit me?" he asked her, following her to Oz's van.

She laughed, shaking her head in amusement. "Of course not, you move far to fast for one who aims like I do," she slung her arm through his. _The best thing about Xander_, she mused, is _that you don't have to pretend anything. He may sometimes be an over-bearing big brother, but at least he's there_. He made life in Sunnydale with the demon nightlife seem normal and okay, it was one of the reasons she loved him. "Where are we going?"

Buffy answered her with a shrug. "I have no idea. We're all being kidnapped." There was an undercurrent of relief in her voice that spoke to them of her immense gratitude. Not only was she glad to be away from the Watcher's Council for a few hours, it was something that would distract her mind. Earlier that day, Ms. Calendar has approached them and told them the truth about who she was-and what had happened to Angel. She shivered, grateful for the press of bodies around her as she realized that Angelus was back. The Council had made her study him enough that she knew he was nothing but trouble.

She just hoped that if he came back, she'd be strong enough to forget their past and fight him without giving into his taunts.

"Works for me." Willow turned to Giles, unable to stop her teasing words. "Long time no see, friend. Do you remember us?"

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "It hasn't been that long, dear girl."

The look she shot him said more than her words did. "Says you. It has seemed like the dullest of all eternities for me."

"And there's that brain of hers that I warned you about," Xander commented, shutting the door with a snap. "Didn't I tell you that it would be a bad thing to cut her off from such intellectually stimulating pursuits."

"Because our _crime club's_ activities are so stimulating," she snickered, unable to help herself. The van was silent for just a moment before it suddenly filled with their laughter. _And_, she thought, resuming her former conversation with herself, _he can always make us laugh_.

Oz looked at him as they pulled in front of Cordelia's. "You're channeling Willow, Xander."

"Better than hyenas," he said with a slight shudder. Looking up at the big house in trepidation, he gave a long sigh. The house was in the rich part of town and never failed to make him nervous. "I'll be right back."

Cordelia grumbled as she climbed into the van and sat between Xander and Willow. But they were surprise to see a hint of relief in her face as they drove away. For a moment they sat in awkward silence, not knowing what to do about it because the only time they had ever really gathered was to talk about the demon life. Even planning for Buffy's surprise party had been in whispers between bouts of research. Oz turned on the radio. As the music swelled in the van, Giles started to sing along. The tension in the car dissolved as his voice carried them away.

"G, you really missed your calling in life," Xander said when the song was over.

Giles sighed, exasperated. "How many times have I told you not to call me that?"

"He's right, though. If you ever decide to give up being a librarian, you could have quite a career in music." Oz turned the car into the parking lot of a newly opened recreational plaza.

Xander got out and helped the girls, then gestured to the building. "Today we'll be learning the fine art that is paint balling. And don't worry about being called away for _crime club_ activities, I talked to Amy earlier and she used a spell to neutralize the demons here. And with Giles' help, she was able to ban them from entering Sunnydale."

"Cool." Buffy nodded, having only tried it once with her father when they had their one and only actual father-daughter dates. She was surprised that Xander had remembered that she had wanted to try it again, for longer this time.

Cordelia gripped as they walked into the air conditioned building. "I would just like to go on the record as saying that this is not my idea of fun. Do you have any idea how much these new nails of mine cost and that I just had them done?"

"But just think of what shooting Princess Vespa's hair did for her aim?" Willow teased. "We'll all be extra-careful not to hurt your hands. We wouldn't want to lose a minute into the game, would we?" A slight question in her voice as she thought about something. "But what about Oz's lycanthropy? Sorry, but I feel that I must ask this question. Would something like this bring the wolf out?"

Giles shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Oz was worried to. According to my research the only thing this activity will do is give him more of an advantage."

"Okay, then I want to be on his team." Willow smiled mischievously, happy when he smiled back at her, shyly. Sometimes she wished they were dating again. "You know, the winning side. I'll sit back and let him do all the work."

"Funny, Will," Xander said, catching the last part of their conversation. He walked towards them with two sets of keys and some instructions. He explained what the man at the counter had told him. "The girls can change in dressing room 15, we guys are in 16. We'll meet in 10 minutes on the field, which should give us enough time to change. The man also suggested we do some stretches so that we get used to the feel of the clothes."

After the game:

"Oh, I don't think I'll ever be able to move normally again," Willow moaned, rubbing her shoulder in small circles. She was bruised and felt sore in places she hadn't even _known_ actually existed in the human body, medical texts aside.

"You need to learn how to tuck and roll, Willow. As well as ducking," Buffy said, getting to her feet quickly. "Well, I'm off to grab a quick shower. Whose with me?" She ignored the glares from the others who were still on the ground.

Xander looked at Buffy and joked. "Tempt not a desperate man."

"Desperate to die?" Cordelia asked, glaring at him.

"She's got you there," Oz murmured, the only other one who could still move with some ease.

Willow accepted his hand, rising gracefully to her feet. "You know what? I think I'll change my mind about becoming a werewolf if they can recover this quickly. What do you guys think?"

Cordelia shook her head, getting up slowly. "I don't think having all that hair would be a good look for you, you're still struggling with emerging from that girl next door look. I vote with coming back as a slayer."

Buffy snorted. "Oh, right. That whole chosen one thing is a real privilege, along with the everyone wants you dead before you turn 18 thing."

"Let's just say that there are upsides and downsides to everything," Oz calmly said, helping Willow and Cordelia to stand up after they fell back down. After their showers, they got into the van and headed back to town. "Did you have anything else planned for us?"

"Dinner," Xander said, handing him the instructions. As they drove along, they talked amongst themselves.

"What on earth..." Giles murmured, seeing something on the roadside. "Pull over, Oz."

Without question, he pulled up near the bus. Giles got out and walked over to the tall, dark haired man who seemed to be in charge. "Might we be of some assistance?"

"If you know anything about getting this contraption to work, you may be." A smooth, accented voice purred, glancing over at the six who walked towards them. Piercing eyes raked over them, resting momentarily on Buffy, Giles, Oz, and Willow, seeming to sense their distinctive oddities. "I am Professor Severus Snape and this is my colleague, Professor Remus Lupin."

"Rupert Giles." He shook the extended hand, then introduced his companions.

Xander walked over to the driver, telling him how to pop the hood on the bus. Walking to the front, he started to poke through it. After a moment of studying the engine, he stepped back, shaking his head, half defeated. There was just no way he could see anything inside it properly. Spotting them standing to the side, he called out, "Wills, I could use some light."

"Light? Oh, sure. Not a problem." Holding out her hand, a glow appeared in the palm and floated towards him. "How's that?" she asked, unaware of the stunned and interested looks she was getting from the strangers or Giles' exasperated, tense glare.

He nodded, going back to his work with her beside him, holding it aloft. "Buffy, do you have a nail file or something that you don't need? This needs to be tightened." As his head was stuck inside the body of the car, his voice sounded strangely hollow and had a slight echo to it.

"Hang on." The blonde knelt down and went through her pack, pulling out one that was slightly battered and green tinged. Xander accepted it from her even as she said, "Sorry about its condition, I used it to dispose of a particularly disgusting slime..."

Giles interrupted Buffy, pulling her to the side, questioning her. And hoping quite desperately that she hadn't been overheard. The last thing they needed was for these strangers to poke their noses into affairs that didn't concern them in the slightest, though he had the funniest feeling that he should know them. "When was this? And why didn't you notify me?"

"Giles, it wasn't a big deal." She shrugged. "It wasn't even that big."

"On the contrary, it could mean quite a lot. Besides, to a demon, size is nothing. Are you sure you disposed of it?"

"Remembering all the slime decorated the place and how many showers I had to take to get rid of all the slime and demon parts, I'd say, yes."

"Eww. Spare me the details. Why do I hang out with you freaks?" Cordelia disgustedly asked, moving back to the van.

"Because we have fun," Oz answered, studying Remus Lupin. It hadn't escaped his notice that the older man was watching him closely. "So, are you?"

"Yes." It should have been enough but...there was something different about Oz. Something he couldn't put his finger on that couldn't be explained away as his merely being a werewolf. "Would you come with me?"

Oz shrugged and followed him away from the company. As Willow stepped back, she watched them go, then turned her attention towards the students on the bus. They were also studying them with interest-especially one young man with eyes as green as her own. "Wills? I need you to conjure a tool or something for me."

She walked back towards him, curious. "Won't the file work?"

"No. The slime made it too thick for the job I needed it to do. See." He showed her the bad fit, before handing it to her. Hands on her waist, he lifted her up so she could measure the width of the bolts.

She sat on the car before deciding that floating slightly above it be better-less heat to burn her butt. "I don't understand why this matters, what's wrong with the bus?"

"I think it's this connection, it doesn't seem to be as tight as it should be. It's either that or the battery needs to be replaced. Everything else is as it should be. Thanks." He accepted the nail file she'd thinned down and twisted the bolt until it was tight enough. Putting the file into his back pocket, he and Willow walked to the driver's window. "Try it now."

The car started up and ran. "Something still doesn't sound right," the driver roughly commented.

"You're right. But it should last until you get to a gas station."

Willow started to walk back to the van, wondering where Giles had gone off to, when a hand closed around her shoulder lightly but firmly. From the feel of the hand, she read the latent strength in it easily. "Mind if I have a word with you?" The voice of the professor was oddly soothing.

"Of course not, Professor Snape." They walked over to the side of the road, away from the bus and the students. "What is it?"

He studied her, trying to read where her strength came from. Finally, he gave up. "Would you mind answering a few questions?"

"Depends." She studied him, shrewdly guessing. "Its about what I did, isn't it?"

"Yes." Severus hid his surprise. He hadn't expected her to admit to what she'd done so innocently, so freely, and without a trace of guilt. Yet there was something about her that was crafty, would easily allow her to fit in with Slytherin House.

She smiled, "I could always just relieve your mind from the...abnormalities in my actions."

Yes, definitely a Slytherin. "That won't be necessary."

"I'm sure it won't, Professor. So, what are you professor of?"

"Potions." Calm. "And you are?"

"Unknown."

"As in mind my own business? Or as in untrained?"

"Or is there a third option?" she queried.

"Possibly."

"Maybe a combination of both?" She was quiet.

He studied her. "Open your mind to mine." It was command.

Before she could do as what he said, Giles quickly interrupted them. "Well now that Xander has your bus working, we really must be on our way. Reservations, you understand. Good luck to you gentlemen." He ushered her away quickly, nodding to Severus as they went. Once they were in the van, he turned to her. "Idiot girl! What were you thinking?"

"Giles, I know that they would understand me," she whispered, rubbing her arm absently. "There was something about them."

"Not another word. I don't know if we can trust them. We know nothing about them. And I will not have you hurt by them-for any reason. I don't want you to associate with them. Avoid them at all costs. Do I make myself clear?" He was angry and worried. Willow would have opened herself up to an invasion she wasn't prepared for, by someone they knew nothing of. Clearly, she didn't understand what she had been about to do. _I must remember to take her aside and explain things to her_, he sighed.

"Yes, Giles."

Severus watched the van disappear, a thoughtful expression on his face. He felt Remus come up behind him and spoke without turning around. "The boy?"

"You were right, he is. What of the girl?"

"The redhead might be a mage or a miko-a medium. The blonde is definitely the slayer. So the older gentleman is her watcher."

"But what is he doing with them?"

Turning towards the bus, he answered, mind already focused elsewhere. "I had heard rumors about the current slayer having help. Obviously, the rumor mill was correct for once. Shall we get back to our students?"

Remus followed, wondering just what they were getting into. Of all the things he had been expecting, meeting the Slayer and her friends was not one of them. Even though Severus had prepared him with a few lectures-some of which had become honest debates and, even more shocking, long conversations that kept them up long into the night-he was still unprepared for the very _feel_ of evil in the air.

It pressed upon him like a physical force, though he'd been warned that his extra senses would do that. The evil seemed to have a life, an essence all of its own-and it had no fear of hiding itself away. It literally hung about them, recognizing them for who and what they were. Part prepared to accept, part prepared to reject them from its own microcosmic world.

"Here."

A potion was shoved into his hand abruptly.

"It'll help." Was the short answer to his curious look.

Shrugging, he drank it down. Almost immediately, the oppressive cloud lifted from his shoulders and he could breath once more. "Thank you."

A snort was his only answer. The bus pulled up in front of the stately mansion that had been rented for them. Neither Severus nor Remus knew what had gone into the arrangements, they only knew what they were and weren't supposed to do. Luckily, the Headmaster had already warded the place so they had one less thing to worry about.

"Everyone out. You do remember your assigned roommates and that you are to get along. If I find out that anyone has switched with anyone..." a pointed look at his Slytherins who refused to meet his eyes momentarily before they straightened and nodded, "for any reason, you will go home immediately and spend the duration doing work under Filch's watchful eyes. There will be no holidays, no going into Hogsmead with the other students, nothing. The Headmaster assigned those rooms himself and I do not mean to let him down for anyone. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Yes, sir." He knew his own house understood, whether they would actually comply was another matter. Once he returned, he would make it clear to them that he meant what he said and would tolerate no infractions. While they were here, they could not afford to fight with the Gryffindors, it would just create to many problems-and they couldn't obliviate everyone. The Ministry had a tendency to frown upon such actions.

"There is another matter that I will address now as it pertains to your stay here as well," he added, his stern voice stilling their restless motions easily. "You will listen and obey Professor Lupin as you would me. He is your teacher and, from this moment until we return to Hogwarts, your second Head of House. If you cannot do this, you must prepare yourselves to go home. I will tolerate no insubordination on this matter. Understood?"

"Sir."

Turning to his companion, he smirked at the dismayed look on Remus' face, knowing his disapproving thoughts instantly. "You should have no trouble with them, Lupin. I will go with the driver and see what can be done about our vehicle. If, in the unlikely event my Slytherins do anything, I want to know about it immediately. I will handle them. The Gryffindors are yours."

Remus nodded and let it slide momentarily, though he understood that the purpose behind this trip was to unite the two rival houses as a coherent unit. One that would work together, even if they would never like each other. _They aren't the only ones who need to work on the destruction of prejudices, are they, Severus_? He thought, watching the dark robed figure stride away. _Does that man never just walk_?

Severus was about to get back on the bus when a hand tapped his shoulder. Whirling around, he was about to deliver a sharp bark, when Potter beat him to it by holding something out to him. "Don't start, sir, this is for you. Headmaster Dumbledore gave it to me."

With a sigh, he accepted the letter, knowing that he would not like it. No matter how often he received letters, they never contained anything he liked.

_Severus,  
do me a favor and keep Harry close by your side except when you are called. It isn't that I don't trust Remus' ability to keep him safe but he doesn't have the advance warning system that you do. Harry already knows the contents of this letter and was as angry about them as I am sure you are. Be nice to the boy, it really isn't his fault.  
__Respectfully yours, Albus_.

"Come along, Potter. I haven't got all day." As much as he tried, he couldn't keep the impatience from his voice. This was the last thing he wished to be doing.

"Yes, sir." Mulish.

They sat in stony silence, before Snape turned to address him. "Listen, Potter, don't think that I am happy with this situation. I am not, far from it. But I will make a deal with you. If you try not to act like a child, I will try to back off of you. Mind you, I will only try. Lifelong habits are hard to break, unless one has great incentive."

Harry was surprised, to say the least and it showed. "Why are you being so decent?"

"Because we are allies in a war, Potter. And in a war, there is no room for childishness or petty jealousies. As I'm sure you have already discovered," he sighed, almost wishing that he didn't have to do this-but he would need the help. "That is why you will find a welcome confidant in our driver."

He was confused, until he took a good look at the driver.

"Hello, Harry."

"Sirius!" The Gryffindor would have gone to him but was yanked down into his seat. "What did you do that for?" he asked, slightly hurt.

"As Black is driving, any exuberant ambulation you felt the need to bestow upon him would've caused an accident. And since I desire to live long enough to see Voldemort truly rotting in his grave, I restrained you."

"Fine. But next time, don't pull so hard. You're stronger than you look."

"And I don't want you touching my godson," Black snarled.

Severus sighed and stared out the window. "Why don't you go sit next to him?" Harry eagerly complied and the potions master was left alone with his thoughts. Not surprisingly they turned to the redhead, there was a disturbing amount of power that centered around her. She was obviously untrained and, as such, a great risk to herself and others. _I must see about finding Mr. Giles and talking to him about her_.

A few days pass.

Sunnydale High

As the group from Hogwarts was taking in the chance to observe and even participate in a few chosen muggle classes, Severus was in the library, chatting with Giles. "Thank you for agreeing to met with me and my colleague, Mr. Giles. Did you find the information I provided for you helpful?"

"Indeed. I better understand who you are and why you were not shocked by what you witnessed."

"Then believe me when I say that I meant no harm to your friend, Miss Rosenberg. She seems to possess a rare power for one who lives in this environment."

"The Hellmouth or being around non-magical beings?" Giles asked.

Severus thought for a moment, phrasing his answer carefully. "A mixture of both, I would say. The powers she holds could have come to her from the Hellmouth, though I find myself doubting that possibility greatly. Then again, she could be naturally born to it but hidden away as she is here, no one would know about it. The situation she lives in could cause such ignorance to lead to danger for her and those around her. Forgive me for this, but I believe that she needs to be trained. And with your other obligations, I don't think that you could do it."

"Willow would never leave."

"I'm not suggesting she do so."

"Then what are you suggesting?"

For once, he had no decisive reply. "I don't know. But I do see great power inside of her, I don't want to see it twisted."

"Neither do I."

"So, have you two finished deciding my future?" An amused, but tired, voice asked from Giles' office. Willow was lying on the couch, a cloth covering her forehead. Once Giles had been sure of the professors, he'd accepted their invitation to come and help her. "Cause I'm telling you right now, I have no intention of going anywhere."

Giles gave him a look that clearly said, _see what I have to deal with_?

His look was, _you want my job teaching the same kids for 7 years_?

He shuddered. "No thanks. I became a librarian to avoid kids. Willow, we aren't deciding anything, just talking."

"Sure you are." There was the sound of shifting. "Thanks, Professor Lupin. Mind if I nap?"

"Yes, sleeping after a soul/mind scan is a dangerous thing. Try to occupy yourself, though I realize that it is a hard thing to do," Severus explained, appearing in the doorway.

"Not as hard as surviving several hours of mental torture, mixed with physical beatings." She muttered, turning to Lupin and ignoring Severus' obvious surprise that she knew something of what happened to him. "So, tell me, what do you teach?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts. The job's cursed and Severus wants it."

"That is mere speculation and conjecture. I am quite pleased with my potions," he corrected him.

"What's Hogwarts like?"

"It is a boarding school."

"I think she needs more than that, Severus." Slightly reproachful, he watched the man shrug before he disappeared out the door. "Well, Miss Rosenberg, it is a boarding school that is surrounded by a forest."

"This forest wouldn't happen to be forbidden, would it?"

"Actually, it would. Why?"

She shrugged, "Call me curious. And before you say it, I know exactly what that does to a cat."

Remus heard the muffled snicker before he turned to tell her about the school. When he finished, he observed idly. "You'd like it, make an excellent Gryffindor."

"She's too smart, either Ravenclaw or Slytherin," Severus commented, leaning against the door frame casually. "How do you feel?"

"Better."

"I can see that. Your color has improved and you don't appear to be shaky or hard of breath," he said, sounding as though he approved. "Excellent."

"What have you decided?" Remus asked.

Instead of answering him, he walked over and handed a paper to her. "We've decided that, since we'll be here for a while, to set you up with a work schedule. That is, if you are agreeable to it."

She scanned the paper, a slight frown between her eyes. "How am I going to go to school, study all of this stuff with you, and make it home before dark?" It was quiet. "I mean, I am interested. I want to learn but this is the Hellmouth. Not the safest place for a girl to wander around alone."

"Yes. We-meaning that Mr. Giles and I-have discussed things."

"See, I told you they were deciding things for me," she whispered to Remus, giggling.

"They've only been discussing you," he chided, trying not to laugh himself.

"And that discussion led where?"

He ignored their snickered conversation and continued, though he couldn't fault the girl on her line of reasoning. "I know that your parents don't really spend that much time with you. If you would like, and because we feel that it would be better for your studies, you may stay with us. It is also my opinion that it would do the students good to have contact with people outside their small circle of acquaintances."

"You want me to stay with you?" she asked tentatively, not quite believing him.

"Would that be desirable?"

"Very. No one has ever really wanted me to stay around, though I know that I am wanted."

"Good." He walked out again. "We'll see you tonight."

Willow looked at Remus, confused. "Is he often like that or did I do something wrong?"

"It's not you. He's always like that."

"Oh, he's all growly exterior. But he's a closet softie, with a few nuts to keep him sane."

Remus bit back the laughter that bubbled up inside. Though he'd love to see Severus' face if he ever heard that description, he didn't want to jeopardize their tentative working relationship. For the most part, they seemed to be getting along. "Pretty much, Willow. But don't let him hear you say that."

"Okay. It'll be our secret." And she put her finger to her lips as though making a pact and sealing the deal with him.

End, Part 1.

_Many thanks to my reviewers. I'm so glad you enjoyed it. And to those who wrote to me, sorry if you didn't get my reply, my e-mail's been rather picky lately. Uhm...I wasn't thinking co-ed, more co-house. As for another part/sequel, I don't know. It depends on if I can keep the light hearted mood I started this story with. My muse wants to insert a plot with Voldemort showing up b/c Angelus is gone._

_But I'm not saying that there isn't the possibility of a continuation. g I do have some ideas, one has Buffy running into Draco and talking to him, after letting him have it. We'll see._


	2. The Slayer and The Brat

_Thank you so much, Faith 16: Yup, I know who you is. You is the only person reading this story. sniff No one else is, they don't like me anymore. wah! Kidding.  (I'm allowed to do that, right, sis?) I'm glad you like the blondie comment, it seemed appropo. As for the hair, what can I say? I was inspired by that picture we saw of him in that mag. You remember that one._

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Draco sat on a bench, head bowed over arms that rested on his knees. The stars played with the red highlights in his hair, no longer perfectly platinum or brushed to perfection. No longer did he aspire to emulate his father in looks or actions.

Seeing Lucius bowed down, humbly prostrating himself to a diseased wizard had killed any respect he had for his father.

The robes he wore were stained with Neville's latest potions disaster, old because he'd been forced to go to the meeting again. He absently rubbed at one such spot, glaring at it angrily through misty eyes. "Stupid redhead," he muttered bitterly. "Taking my place as potions wizard. About the only thing I really did well and I lose it to some stupid muggle born." The last was spoken in a highly ironic tone of voice.

It was no secret that the two had become good natured rivals in class. She was good, had a daft hand in potions, but she didn't wave it in everyone's face. So, unlike his feelings for Granger, he respected Rosenberg-as far as her skills went-until she'd surpassed him.

Then she had taken his place as head of the class and as Snape's favored student, as though it was her rightful place. A place he had worked hard to attain and keep, there was no bribery or trickery involved there. He _earned_ that place of respect.

Thinking of his head of house and favorite professor deepened the scowl on his face.

At long last, Professor Snape had totally succumbed to the legend of bloody Harry Potter. Before they had come to this wretched town, the two couldn't stand in the same room without fighting in one form or another.

Now they went practically everywhere together. Potter hung on him, as though he had every right to be there-and looked ill if his Professor Snape was away for very long.

"Bloody stupid Potter!" he snarled viciously, rising to his feet with a jerk. "Gets fame _he doesn't want_ without effort. Breaks rules without punishment of any true kind, just one for show. Has loyal friends he doesn't need to question. Earned my father's grudging respect. And now he has my teacher." As he was speaking, power built up around him.

Angry destructive power that unleashed itself on the park. "_**I hate him**_!"

The cry echoed into the night, leaving a path of destruction in its wake.

Buffy came running when she heard the breaking and tearing sounds, terrified by what she might find. In her hand, she held a stake at the ready, hoping that she wouldn't be overwhelmed. She skidded to a stop, nearly losing the stake, startled by the sight that met her eyes. Standing in the epicenter was a young man her age, throwing what might've been in a younger person, a temper tantrum.

"Always, always Potter. Potter this and Potter that. Oh, did you see what Potter just did? Heard about the latest wonder the 'boy who lived' performed."

"Excuse me?" Buffy asked, seconds before her fist connected with his jaw. "Do you mind not destroying my town with your juvenile hissy fit?"

Draco blinked up at the blonde in shock, fingering his sore jaw. "Who do you think you are attacking me like that?"

"The Slayer. It's my job to take care of threats to the world that enter my territory." She studied him for a moment, continuing to speak in a voice of one used to dealing with immature children. "And you must be one of the wizards Willow's living with. If you're done acting like a toddler, I think it's time to walk you home."

"I can take care of myself, blondie," he snapped, irritated by her words. Rising to his feet, he glared at her, a little upset to find them the same height. No one but Professor Snape had the right to talk to him like that. No one.

"Sure you can," her reply was soothing but clearly humoring him. "That would explain your mature behavior. And why you brought every demon within five miles of this place to your side."

The Slytherin looked around, paling a bit before remembering who he was. He'd never seen even half of these demons before. It was quite…unnerving. "I meant to do that, Slayer." Gray eyes sent a challenge her way, wondering how she'd react.

"Buffy. And since you wanted them here, I'll let you take care of them." Though as she looked at him, she knew that she couldn't let him do it. Even with his imperious attitude, there was a vulnerability in him.

"Fine," he snapped, moving away from her, stung by her reply. Giving himself a shake, he reminded himself that he didn't need her help anyway. "I don't need your help. Or anyone else's," he added loudly, seeing Professor Lupin round the corner.

_But let's flashback for a moment and see how this all came about-because I, as the author, feel like being mean and doing so_.

Willow walked into the mansion and looked around. The authoritative clap of hands startled her, as did the sounds of approaching feet from above. Looking up, she saw a steady stream of students line up at the top of the stairs. Dressed all in uniform black, with only bright scarves in red and gold or green and silver to denote a difference about them though she wasn't quite sure what they were supposed to mark.

"Students, this is Miss Willow Rosenberg. You remember meeting her at the school we toured a few days ago. She will be staying with us and learning from us. Please make us her feel welcome while she is here," Remus spoke with quiet authority. "Willow, you will stay with Hermione Granger, Parvati Patil, Blaise Zabini, Lavender Brown, and Pansy Parkinson. Girls?"

Stepping forward, they introduced themselves and led her upstairs. "I want the rest of you to introduce yourselves to her over the next few days. We do not want to overwhelm her."

Severus nodded to the Slytherins, indicating that they should join him in the study. "I would advise all of you-and I will also speak with Pansy and Blaise-to tread carefully around our guest. She is untutored with the wand and quite comfortable with wandless magic. If you cannot do so, try to her avoid her. Are we clear?"

"As crystal," they chorused.

"Excellent. Now," he settled into the chair and they circled around him, "how have you all been doing? Any particular troubles in your studies?"

Remus looked between the closed door and the remaining confused students with a sigh, his gaze resting on Harry particularly. The boy had become close to the potions master, almost thinking of him as his substitute father. _May be this place really was cursed, _he thought idly_. After all, why else would the boy think of Severus Snape in that capacity. Certainly no one else, other than his own house, did that_. Other than Harry getting along better with Snape, this trip was not going according to plan. Headmaster Dumbledore was sure to be disappointed in them.

He resolved to talk to Severus about the situation. They couldn't go on like this for much longer, to much was at stake. And he would not be put off with any of his side-stepping.

Upstairs, Hermione showed Willow the room and which bunk she could have. It took effort to stifle her curiosity about the strange girl who'd entered their lives so suddenly. She knew they'd met in front of the library but she also recognized her from earlier. _Now, when was that_? She thought, _oh, yes. When the bus broke down, she was with the blonde and the bloke who'd helped fix the bus_.

"What's that?" Willow interrupted her thoughts, pointing to the table by the bed.

"What?" the brown haired girl saw only her wand resting on the night table.

The redhead picked it up, holding it out. "This."

"That's my wand," her answer sounded strained. Seeing her wand in the other girl's hand sent a wave of possessiveness through her. The strength of it shocked her.

Willow picked up on the undercurrent, as well as the distrust and hate from the other girls in the room. Although, there was one neutral one in the room-Lavender Brown. Handing the wand to her, she mused thoughtfully, "I thought wands were only used in fairy tales."

"Are you daft?" The one called Zabini scoffed, looking at her piteously. "Wands are, how shall I put this so that the dimwitted American can understand..."

Whatever she had been going to say was cut off rather violently when she was thrust against the wall and held there. Green eyes stared at her hard before flicking her hand-letting her fall to the ground. "I would advise you to govern your tongue. I will not tolerate such rudeness. From anyone-save Queen C," she ended with a frosty smile. "Understand?"

Blaise shakily stood up, nodding slightly. It hurt to even do that and she resolved to ask her professor for a potion to ease the pain.

"Good," Willow spoke firmly, ignoring the frightened looks and wide berth the girls were now giving her. Stifling a sigh, she began to settle into the room. First, she pulled out a night shirt and her palm pilot. The rest of her things, she left in her trunk and placed a spell on her things to protect them from any invasion. She was as wary of them as they were of her.

Parvati spoke up, getting tired of the tense silence. "Whose this Queen C you mentioned? I've never heard of her and I thought that I knew of all the royals."

Laughing, the girl from Sunnydale tried to explain her 'friend'. "Her name is Cordelia Chase, and she's not really a royal, though she should be. I've never seen anyone who has half her dignity or presence. Besides, she acts like a queen. Be careful of her, her way with words is the most dangerous weapon known to mankind." Though it was said jokingly, there was a ring of truth in the words.

"So, when did you realize that you could do magic?" Lavender finally entered the conversation. She was a girl of medium height, with shoulder length auburn hair. Currently, she was curled up on her headboard. Bright eyes watched Willow curiously. There was something about the girl that spoke of secrets and yet, she also sensed that the redhead was rather shy. Friendly, but shy and felt truly unhappy about the way this meeting had gone over.

"Hmmm...that's a rather difficult question," she sat on the bed, cross legged. After chewing on her hair for a moment, she cleared her throat and began to speak. "I never really found out that I was gifted, I was just curious about magic. My friend, Amy Madison, is an accomplished witch-in my opinion at least. She inherited the power through her mother, I don't know that much about her father. Anyway, she used to invite me over and ask for help with a few minor things. Potions, charms, spell writing, that sort of thing. When Giles-he's my guardian-found out, he started to have me do a bit more regulated spells. The biggest thing that tipped us off to the fact that I might possess actual power was when we tried to exorcise some spirits doomed to repeat their last, tragic days. That didn't work but I was able to create bodies for them. Through this, I was able to help them resolve and move on. It confirmed that there was a gift within me."

"You created temporal bodies for spirits?" Hermione was awed, that was power beyond what they knew. There was nothing in any of the books she read that even touched power like this. What kind of girl was this?

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Blaise, Pansy, a moment of your time. The rest of you, its lights out. No grumbling or trying to evade this. I will know and your punishment will be severe beyond your imagination," Severus warned.

Willow sighed in relief, climbing under the covers, glad to have the interview over. _How will I ever fit in with these students_? A few tears leaked out from her eyes. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly alien. Unknown to her, they felt the same way towards her-especially those who were forced to share a room with her.

Professor Snape frowned at _his_ girls upon hearing what had happened between Blaise and Willow, though he was grateful the injury wasn't worse. "I meant to warn you about her wandless tendencies. She has an innate grasp on magic and its source but no conception on how to focus or channel it properly. As for knowing about limitations, I am afraid that I will have to teach her that too. In the future, refrain from such behavior. I would hate to send you home."

"She's that good?" Pansy asked doubtfully.

"That risky. I don't like unstable magic and that Miss. Rosenberg is definitely what I call a possessor of unstable magic," he corrected gently, briefly touching their shoulders. "Don't worry, she's no threat. What I want to do is keep her that way. Now, get some sleep and girls?"

They turned on the stairs, giving him their full attention.

"Thank you for respecting Professor Lupin." He watched them go upstairs before turning to enter the library. "Lupin," he greeted the waiting professor coolly.

"Severus," he replied pointedly, if quietly.

Severus sat down, crossed his arms, and waited, his eyebrow raised in silent query.

"You must be wondering why I asked to see you," Remus cleared his throat, nervously. His colleague was giving him **that** look, the one reserved for the worst of his students. The one that always made him feel more than a little insignificant. "I am sure you remember why Albus sent us out with only the Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses, instead of all as originally planned."

The potions master stared at him blankly. For once, truly at sea, "I fail to see where this conversation is going, Lupin. Would you mind terribly if I asked you to come to the point?"

"The point, as you put it, Severus, is that you continue to exclude the Gryffindors from your attentions. You give the Slytherins your attention, your time, and every night, you take them aside to catch up on their days. When you go out on expeditions, they go with you. You take none of the other students, except Harry. If not for Headmaster Dumbledore's telling you to watch him, you would leave him behind as well. The Slytherins get the full benefit, the full depth of your not inconsiderable knowledge of magic. What about the Gryffindors?"

"What of them?" he was bored with this line of conversation.

Remus' fist slammed against the desk, jolting Severus out of his lethargy. "Don't you think for one moment that they might benefit from your teachings? And before you give me that same old line about them having no real interest in what you have to teach, may I remind you that I know exactly what goes on in those lessons through our mutual student, Harry Potter?"

Severus ground his teeth in frustration. Drat the boy! Couldn't he just learn not to speak when there was no need? "Lupin, I have no desire to further my acquaintance with Gryffindors. Under your able care and understanding, they have been putting aside grudges and played nice. My classes have never been so smooth."

"Yes," he interrupted harshly, "but then you throw all my work away by pulling a stunt like what happened tonight!"

"I do not pull stunts, Professor." He spoke icily, offended deeply by the mere suggestion that he would do so, "to what are you referring to?"

"Pulling the Slytherins aside and giving them the full of your attention!" he repeated. "Severus, did you not even realize that Harry was outside the door, waiting for you to let him in? To include him in as you have been doing ever since arriving here? He _wants_ that inclusion so bad, I think it truly frightens him at times-and yet, he is comforted as well."

Severus rolled his eyes, "Slytherins require a special touch, Lupin. As for Potter, he is only my responsibility when I leave the mansion. Any other time he is your concern."

The other man barely held in a growl of frustration, the professor was making it very hard to remain calm, to remain in control of himself. He even felt it was a deliberate attempt to see if he could force an end to their conversation. "Are you daft? Harry looks up to you. Whether you intended it or not, he looks up to you as some kind of father!"

"What is this you speak of? Lupin, have you lost what sense you had?" He stood up and paced the length of the room, truly disturbed. "Where did you get such an idea? It's just what I needed, for my enemy's own son to find in me a father figure. Lupin, you have gone completely nutters!" He never would have used such a term but, in his agitation, he could think of no better word to describe what he thought of Lupin's mental state, such as it was.

"I say again, Severus, look at him. Really look at him."

"This is pure nonsense. And I will have no more of it!"

"You will sit down, Severus, until we've finished this," Remus growled, watching the professor sit slowly back down. "We'll discuss the situation with Harry later. But I must insist that you pay a little more attention to the Gryffindors. Your behavior makes them feel like outsiders!"

"Good. Now they know how it feels to be one of my house. We are usually the ones who feel that way-only it is all the time. It will be so for the rest of our lives," he paused, studying the wolf across from him. "From the moment, nay, the very second that hat places us in Slytherin, we are written off as worthless by teachers. And the very embodiment of evil by the whole student population. Unredeemable by the rest of society.

"We are good enough when people want things done-the ambition thing comes in handy-but are damned to walk alone. Even in our own house, we are not totally accepted because we need to be strong on our own. We need to be the Captains of our fate. That is the way it has been since the founding of the school. The great schism occurred and Slytherin was sent away, his view point lost because people wanted to think he was at fault.

"Now he is remembered, not for helping to build our school or for being a part of the glorious rise of our world's safety, but for hating muggle borns. For wanting to exclude them from our society and for teaching the Dark Arts without fear of what that meant. It never once occurred to anyone that may be he wasn't against them but the poison that some would bring into our world because of the influences they've felt at home. All Dark Lords have come from Slytherin House, that is the truth. But no one ever dares to say that they have all been from muggle born families. Shall I go on?" he challenged, staring at his colleague's shocked face

"I thought not. I am not going to apologize for my past slighting of the Gryffindors. If it will comfort you, I will take them on tomorrow's trip to the vineyard. As for right now, I must excuse myself. I have work to do," it was a frosty parting.

And still Remus sat, he didn't move. He felt unable to wrap his mind around the things he'd heard-especially the slightest sound of disappointment in Severus' voice.

End, Part 2


	3. Of Field Trips and Werewolves

_Author's Note: A heartfelt thanks for my reviewers and an apology. This work is going slower than I would like. But RL has a tendency to get in the way. Of course, I don't even know if anyone is still reading this piece. But I still apologize. Heehee, more turns in these two chapters. Hope you enjoy them, Ann, and the Oz appearance. I hope I did him justice, he's kinda hard to write for. Sirius/Buffy? I don't know, I'm more of a Spike/Buffy gal myself. But I'll see where my muse leads me, okay, Azvl? Wiccan-One, how about these two chappies? Thanks for the encouragement. Samson, glad you're enjoying the work. Haven't you read one of my other pieces? Girl Blaise, obviously._

_Author made a correction: Miss-housing Miss Patil was an error, I wasn't thinking too clearly. Thank you, VLD, for pointing it out-especially since I should have double-checked to make sure I was correct._

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Pansy woke up early, stretched, and got out of bed. Rising early was a habit she'd never had back at school. But here, in Sunnydale, there was only one shower per room and hot water was a valuable commodity. They were not allowed to reheat the water with charms-and she had no intention of showering after the Gryffindors.

Oh, she knew they weren't a bad bunch-as far as they went, even that Granger girl was fairly tolerable once one got past her know-it-all attitude. But this was the shower. A time for privacy and contemplation.

Pausing only long enough to check on her roommates, she was dismayed to see one empty bed. It looked like she and Blaise would have to get up earlier in order to stay the first in the bathroom.

Heaving a regretful sigh, she resigned herself to wait outside the door. She was not going to lose a coveted spot for anything. Again, she was stunned. The bathroom was free and showed no sign of use.

She was almost suspicious until she remembered that the Rosenberg girl went to school and needed to be gone early in the morning. After a somewhat leisurely shower, she dressed in comfortable clothes. Professor Snape was taking the out to a vineyard and they'd be walking-a lot. Exchanging places with the bleary eyed Blaise, she sighed.

"What? Not looking forward to today's trip?"

"The trip, yes. Spending time with our newly acquired lap dog, no."

Blaise's sigh echoed hers, "how could I forget Potter, the perfect. Why must he go with us? He isn't one of our own."

"The Headmaster," they chorused, stifling their laughter when one of the girls stirred. Pansy urged her friend to hurry up.

"A purebred lady does not rush through morning preparations," Blaise replied, smirking at the miffed look on the other girl's face at the implied insult.

She quirked an eyebrow, smirking as she though of something. "Fine. But I won't save you any of those delicious strawberry bagels you're so fond of."

"Pansy!" she wailed as loudly as she dared, swearing revenge as she hurried through the shower and dressing. "You are dead!"

The other girls were still stirring as they slipped out and down the stairs. As usual, both of their professors book ended the table. "Good morning, Professors."

"Morning," Severus growled. They ignored it as they sat down, used to his gruffness. He was _never_ hospitable until after he'd had a cup of coffee. "I'm sure you remember where we are going and have dressed and shod yourselves properly. You are also prepared to teach about the history of the place and its connection to us."

"Of course," Draco spoke from his right.

"Excellent," he paused, then continued, "the Gryffindors will be joining us."

The Slytherins stared at him, shocked, before exploding into outraged cries. One glare and they were silent, though they couldn't cover the disappointment in their eyes.

"Professor Lupin feels that they would benefit from our outings." He was careful to keep his voice neutral, though his more discerning students would pick up his displeasure. "I want no trouble."

Remus frowned at the implied threat, "don't you think you're being just a tad too judgmental?"

Every Slytherin glared at him, watching as he squirmed uncomfortably. Obviously, they thought that his threat was normal and needed in some way. Remus sighed, wondering if he would ever understand how their minds worked.

"I know my Slytherins," the statement was final and brooked no argument, not that he could when he didn't understand the field. "Draco, Pansy, Blaise, John, Millicent, Andrew?" he said, looking at them each in turn. "As pairs, you will each be in charge of your own group of combined Slytherins and Gryffindors. May I trust you to do right by them?"

"You may."

Professor Snape nodded, they ate in silence, waiting for the Gryffindors to rouse themselves.

All things considered, the trip wasn't a complete failure.

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Remus watched them go, relaxing into the quiet but worried about the trip. He hoped that he was doing right by his students. Sitting down in the library, he started to read a few of the manuals that Severus had recommended when a knock drew him from them an hour later. Rising to his feet, he opened the door and saw Oz standing there.

"Willow thought you might have a moment for me."

"For you, a few moments," he replied with a smile, moving aside to let the boy in.

Remus led Oz into the parlor and he looked around, curiously. "So, where is everyone?"

"They are out with Professor Snape," he replied, gesturing that they should both take a seat.

The teen's eyebrows rose in query, knowing that only two teachers were with them. Although the driver might have some kind of authority over the students, he wouldn't be much help if discipline problems arose.

"He keeps them in line very well on his own-almost scary when you think about it, really."

Oz nodded, his private impression of the dark professor confirmed. "I've thought about what you said but I must ask, how long have you been a werewolf?"

The professor had expected this question. Had, in fact, been surprised that Oz hadn't asked it when they spoke before. "Almost all my life. It happened when I was very young, I was attacked in the woods behind my home."

He nodded, "you believe this potion will work for me?"

"I haven't talked to Professor Snape about it but I see no reason for it not to. Your transformations?" he gently prodded.

"Aren't bad. Three nights I change but am fine and healthy during the days...what?"

"You aren't serious? You mean, you actually change three times," he exclaimed, horrified at the thought. Even with the potion, the transformation hurt beyond the ability of words to describe. It was a walking, breathing nightmare.

"You don't?" Oz was puzzled. This was new, maybe he should've let Giles come along. The man did think he was a classic, after all.

"No," Remus shook his head. "I remain in wolf form through the full moon cycle. I can't even begin to fathom what its like for you."

"Don't try. As I've said, they aren't bad. I don't even feel them happen."

"How did you become a werewolf?" he asked, fascinated. All of the others had experienced pain, yet Oz claimed to feel none. Remus had to believe him because that pain cannot be forgotten-even by a teen-age band member.

"My cousin, Jordy, bit me while we were playing."

Remus' eyes widened, "you played with a werewolf cub? Are you nuts?"

"Didn't know he was one at the time," he replied dryly.

"How could you not know? He's your cousin."

"Jordy's three."

If Remus' eyes got wider, Oz feared they'd pop out of his skull. "Three?"

"Yeah. Natural born on his father's side."

"I think I need to sit down."

"You are."

"Oh, yea me."

Oz smiled a little, "having a Willow moment?"

"What?"

"Willow would say something like that," he smiled a bit. "I take it you've never heard of natural born werewolves?" It was a half-question, half-statement.

"No. There have been rumors that such things are possible, but no one has ever proven any such thing. So, he was human when he bit you. How is that possible? In the wizarding world, the only way to pass on the curse is to be bitten by the actual wolf."

"Harsh. Giles thinks it's a part of my genes. Possibly some recessive gene that the bite brought out." Oz tried to answer his question. But to be truthful, he wasn't sure that he knew how it happened. After all, his Aunt Maureen wasn't a werewolf, though she'd been married his Uncle Ken for years and was unaffected.

"How did you find out?"

"I woke up naked in the forest with no memory of how I got there, I figured something was up."

"Okay," he drew the word out for a while before continuing. "How did you tie it into the wolf?"

"There were attacks by what some described as a wolf-like creature and they were centered near the area I woke up in. Since I knew vampires existed, it seemed reasonable to assume that werewolves did too and what better reason to assume that I was the wolf. I did, after all, wake up naked with no memory of how I came to be there. I called my Aunt Maureen, she confirmed that it could be possible."

"You are remarkably calm about this," his tone was dry.

Oz shrugged, "why freak out about things that you can't change? It wastes energy."

"I suppose," Remus mused, "that attitude works."

"Besides, Willow says it's only three nights out of every month. And she's not good company on certain days either. Of course, that was after I tried to eat her."

Remus chocked, "what?"

"We were dating and she came to check up on me that last night of the full moon."

"Dated? She doesn't seem the type to break up with someone over this."

"She isn't. I wanted time to come to grips with this, make sure I could deal with all the changes it brings. She was angry with me when I suggested breaking up, thought I believed that she might be bigoted. Once I got her to listen, though, she was not only supportive but also encouraging. Of course, I can also count on her to shoot me if I get out of line."

Remus nodded, knowing the value of friendships. _Good heavens, I wish Severus was here to deal with this. I think I may have bitten off more than I was ready for_. "You are blessed to have such a friend."

"I know."

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"How was it?" Remus asked, meeting the returning group at the door.

"They aren't dead. Does that answer your question?" he replied.

"For now." He followed Severus into the potions lab, glancing around. This was the one room he'd never entered, the noxious fumes wrecked havoc with his senses. But the lab was safe at the moment since no one had been in it all day. He saw Harry in the corner, mixing something.

"Lupin, do I possess your leash?"

"I am not a dog, Severus," he mildly replied.

"Then why do you persist in following me about like one?" he silkily asked.

"Because I can't stay away from your positive presence," he quipped.

He glared in reply, "I have work, so this had better be important."

"I had a visitor."

"Oh, wonderful. Want me to throw you a party?" He turned his back on him and began to remove things from the cupboard.

"Depends on what you plan to do for entertainment."

"Thinking about a werewolf hunt," he muttered.

"Oh, really? What do I get for eluding you?"

"Your life," he sardonically replied.

"Tempting, but I must refuse."

"Does nothing I say ever phase you?" he exasperatedly exclaimed.

"To quote my visitor, _why freak out about things you can't change_?. I think he's got a great idea."

"Lupin, who was this generous Buddha that visited you?" He decided to humor him in the hopes that he'd leave.

Remus smiled in amusement, wondering what the young man would think to hear himself described as such. "He's no Buddha, though he has the calm of a monk. It was Oz."

"Ah, the mini-wolf."

"The natural born werewolf," he corrected him. "Well, honestly, his cousin is the born wolf and he just passed it to him. I told him about the potion before I knew all of this. Do you believe that it would work for him?"

Severus turned and stared at him, torn between shock that his services had been offered without his say so. And the obvious fact that Lupin never would've offered them if he hadn't thought the potion was worth it. It took him a moment to acknowledge the question and give it the thought it deserved. "No. The potion was made specifically for werewolves with a wizard's physiology. A muggle is entirely different, they change between human form and wolf form during the full moon phases."

"You knew that?" he was stunned. "I just found out."

"Lupin, I _created_ the bloody potion. I have studied _dark creatures_, as the Ministry insists we call them, all my life. _Of course_, I knew about this. There are many permutations to the wolf, most of them are found in the New World. America, if you would rather, that is why their magical beings have a handle on wandless magic better than we do. The source is different, more ambient here. I let my wonder of Miss Rosenberg's abilities blind me to that one fact."

"Wait, you made the potion? Why?"

Severus looked bored-and pensive. "I needed a challenge and that one was most sufficient."

Remus just stared at him, "a challenge?"

"It is one thing we Slytherins love, it's part of that whole ambition thing. But you wouldn't understand that, would you?"

"I think I'm going to rest for a bit, this day has just been a bit more overwhelming than I was expecting." Remus faintly said, wandering out shakily. From his posture, Severus could tell that he hadn't caught any of what he'd said.

"What?" he snapped at Harry.

"Why are you so nasty to Professor Lupin?"

"Why are you so nasty to the Slytherins? All we did is get sorted into a house you're against."

"So, what? This is your way of getting back at him for ending up in Gryffindor?"

"Potter, don't talk about things you have no understanding of," he sighed.

"Then teach me, that is your job."

Again, he sighed. "Not about things that are best forgotten."

"Why? You haven't."

"Do you fully realize that for several years-since I was nine, in fact-I have been preparing to be a spy for our side." He no longer bothered to question why he was telling Potter these things, he just accepted it as his new responsibility.

Harry gaped at him, "nine?"

"That's when I found out I was going to Hogwarts early, though I had turned ten before I actually stepped foot on the train. It was quite a surprise to me when Headmaster Dumbledore visited me on my ninth birthday, with the Sorting Hat in hand. I nearly died when I found out what he wanted me to do. He asked me to beg for Slytherin but allowed me to be truly sorted. The dearest dream of my heart came true when it said I was meant for Ravenclaw. My grandfather," he spat out the word, "would never have approved-no Prince had ever been in any house other than Slytherin and I would not be the first. He'd beat me to death first. So, I got the house that would keep me alive and out of his wrath."

"But why?"

"Haven't you gotten it yet, Mr. Potter? Headmaster Dumbledore is a puppet master. He pulls our strings to get us to dance to his tune." Viciously, he began to slice the thin root in front of him.

Harry was silent, watching the potions master settle into his _happy place_ enviously. Only one thing had given him that escape, Quidditch, and they couldn't play that here. To many muggles, though from what Willow said the people were remarkably unobservant and didn't notice much of anything.

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_Author's Note #2: The thing about Remus' wolf form, I made it up to differentiate between his wolfyness and Oz's. As for the cousin, I made that stuff up as well. Does anyone mind?_


	4. That's A Wand?

_Author's Note: Ambient magic is magic that comes to you. Academic magic is the magic that is learned. (Got the idea from "The Circle of Magic" series.)_

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Willow walked between Professor Snape and Harry Potter down the street. They had flooed to a place called Diagon Alley to get her a wand. Though more and more, the professor had been thinking it would be an unnecessary burden for her to use it full time as they did. Yet, he felt that she desperately needed a focal point for the magic, something better to channel the directionless power than her whole body. Plus, he hoped it would teach her control over herself.

He just wished that they had time to see Professor Flitwick, there was something more ambient than academic about her magic. Of all the Hogwarts' professors, only Filius had recognized his own ambient magic. Severus felt ill equipped to handle her if his gut was speaking the truth.

"Sir," Harry leaned over to tap him on the arm cautiously. "We're here."

Willow looked at the shop, curiously Harry and Snape had stopped in front of. Her nose twitched at the feel of the magic pulsing from the building. It left her filling vaguely high on the power and, almost instinctively, started drawing it in.

"Pull back from it, Miss Rosenberg. This is neither the time nor the place," Severus sharply told her, voice cutting into her thoughts. Gut feeling confirmed, he thought. "You will enter and meet the wand maker, Mr. Ollivander. He will help you appropriate your wand. Mr. Potter, you will come with me."

With a seemingly careless shrug did as he asked, then entered the building. Again, she felt the curious touch of the power reaching out to enfold her and reached out to it. It felt all tingling and made her feel slightly light headed. As before, Professor Snape's voice reached her. "Do not meddle with the magic. Turn it off and shut yourself down."

Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply and envisioned the strands of magic coming towards her as she'd been taught. Using some of her own reserves, she pushed it away and wove it back into the woodwork, clamping it into place. Then, she compressed her own wayward powers and was left feeling weak and breathless.

"Ah, an ambient mage has once more wandered into my shop. What can I do for you when there is no need for a wand?"

"Professor Snape insists upon it," she shrugged.

An odd twinkle entered his eyes. "Yes, he would know best. Well, what is your name?" He was perplexed about the redhead girl's identity, she faintly resembled Lily Evans Potter. Though, there was a bit of the Weasley about her, as well. May be he'd have to let Mr. Weasley know that he had a lost relative wandering about the Americas.

"Willow Rosenberg, sir." She shivered a bit, there was something creepy about this guy. Feeling it best, she kept her distance.

"Rosenberg, a strong Jewish name," he mused, staring at her thoughtfully. There was something about her that bothered him. Not in a bad way but it was something that troubled him. It wasn't the ambient magic in her, he'd seen his fair share of those over the years. No, it was something else. But what? "Unusual to have magical abilities, but not unknown. What is your bloodline?"

"How should I know?"

"Are you not interested in where your magic comes from?"

She shrugged, "as long as it works when I need it to, no."

"Practical, sad really. Maybe you should try this willow wand, its core is a sphinx hair." He passed her the wand and waited, "give it a wave."

"Why? It's not going to respond. I don't feel a kinship with it," she passed it back.

"Have you ever handled a wand?"

"Miss Granger's, I picked it up to ask what it was. And Draco Malfoy's, they both rejected me."

He pulled out a few more boxes and placed them on the table top, neatly covering it. "That is because, as you surmised before, they don't have a resonance with you. All wands must be connected to the very power source of a wizard. It is very difficult for a wand to work with a wizard it has not chosen. Try this, yew with a swan feather."

"Nothing." This was the same response he got for the oak with a kneazles' hair, the maple with the unicorn tail core, and the hornbeam with dragon's tears. He handed her a few more, a holly with a few unicorn tears, the mahogany with the veela's hair, a rosewood with a dragon heart string, and another yew, this one with a mistletoe as its core. After a while, there were only a few more wands left to chose from.

She looked skeptically at the graying wand, "it looks dead."

"Well, that one was created using parts of a dementor and a banshee. I haven't got any idea how it got into this pile. In fact, I can't understand why its still here. I could've sworn I destroyed the thing when the dementors where searching for the escaped Sirius Black. Oh, well. The wand does its own deciding. Would you like to give it a wave?" he asked, passing it over.

Her hand twitched, aching to feel it against her own feelings of revulsion. She didn't know what a dementor was, but she surely knew what a banshee was and what they did. No way did she want it, even if she did live on the Hellmouth. "Why bother? I can feel it calling to me," she sighed. "How much for it?"

"Already taken care of," he replied, waving the wands back into their place. "Take care of the wand and it will take care of you."

"I'll be sure to do that," she grimaced, unhappy but resigned. The wand's power gripped her tightly, feeling its way into her body and aligning itself to her. Willow turned and left the shop, her stomach tied in queasy knots.

"Finally, I was beginning to think...what is that?" Professor Snape asked, glancing at the gray wand, stunned by its rather decaying look.

"My wand."

"It looks dead," Severus flatly declared.

"Its made up of dementor and banshee parts," she told him.

The dark eyes studied her, trying to decide if that was a joke. There was no laughter in her eyes and he wasn't even sure she could make such a thing up. "I suppose it is appropriate considering that you live on the Hellmouth."

"Yeah. The whole dead population is sure to get a kick out of its presence," she sardonically said.

But he had already begun to process the idea. "It makes perfect sense. They would never be able to feel something so innately evil because they are that way themselves. Any other wand would alert them to its presence. Evil as it may have been in life, it is now the perfect protector for you."

"Glad you think so, Professor."

"I had wondered about my own," he mused. "Now, it's all so clear. I can't believe I missed its implications. What a dunderhead I've been!"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, exchanging confused looks with Willow.

"My wand is made out of the bones of a Master Vampire and the blood of a basilisk." He started to walk briskly off, "let's go."

They followed, practically running to keep up with his longer stride. In between gasps, she found the energy to ask, "What's he talking about, Harry?"

"He is, or was, a spy. Such a wand would certainly protect him from the Dark Lord's touch, even more than his skills as an occlemens, I suppose," Harry explained between pants.

"Severus, my dear friend, where are you off to in such a hurry. I was hoping to visit you but you've spared me the necessity of coming to such a barbarian country," a silky voice purred from the shadows in front of the professor.

_Go back and head towards Davenport House. Tell the landlady, in parseltongue, that I've sent you for the Merlin Codex. Move, you stupid children_. The voice resounded in both their minds and they stopped and turned around.

"Why are we running?" Willow asked after they'd been running in various directions for a while.

Harry stopped, leaning against the wall, panting from his exertions. "I have no idea."

"Then, where are we going?"

"If I knew, we would probably be there by now. Can't you just do some locator spell with your own magic?"

"Don't be stupid, Potter, I'd have to be familiar with the area before I can do anything like what you're suggesting," she crossly said, glancing around them nervously. "Doesn't anything look familiar to you?"

He glanced around, paling rapidly. "Oh, Merlyn." Over to their right, just a hair's breath from them, was a spot he remembered, all to well. One he hated for the fear and confusion it caused him and the memories it brought up.

"What now?"

"Knockturn Alley," he whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"We're near Knockturn Alley. We've got to get away," he started off.

"Hold!" she commanded, freezing him in place. "What are you talking about?"

"We don't have time for this. That's Knockturn Alley. A notorious alley where dark wizards and witches do business." Harry explained quickly, "we can't get caught near here."

"Would there be anyone in there who could give us directions?" she coolly asked, staring at him.

"Willow, don't be stupid! Evil wizards are in there, the only thing they'll want from you is your soul."

Her eyes narrowed, "you're really afraid of that place, aren't you?"

"Yes!"

"Very well, you stay here. I'll be right back," she left him standing in the middle of the road, petrified.

"Rosenberg! You can't do this alone!" he called after her.

She suddenly appeared beside him, "I'll have you know that I've been taking very good care of myself for years. A little alley like that is nothing compared to my home. Are you coming?"

He sighed, "you're not joking."

"Afraid not."

"Then let's go. Professor Snape is going to kill me," he muttered, following her.

She smiled grimly at him, "maim you, may be. But he won't kill you."

"You don't know the professor," he laughed bleakly. "He's been trying to get rid of me for years."

"Excuse me?" She flung back the man who'd been attempting to do something to her. "But everything on this person is owned by me. Back off!" Her voice was calm, reasonable but the effect of it along with the magic she'd casually tossed around, cleared the path for them. The gathered group of riffraff wanted to be as far from the strange redhead and her oddly shaped companion as possible.

"And, of course, no one is going to know that I was here," he muttered darkly.

"Of course they won't. How will they know who you are when they can't really see you?" she asked, moving through the streets and towards one of the shops.

Harry almost questioned her but took another look at her. Willow seemed to have grown a few inches and filled out. Her robe was no longer green but a dark blood red color. The red hair was caught up in a semi-tight bun, exposing the long line of her swanlike neck. In her hand, her wand had extended to become a staff. Then he felt the changes in himself, he seemed to be walking with a slouch.

Risking a glance, he nearly stopped when he saw his appearance in the dirty shop window. His back was curved slightly to one side, putting an emphasis on his left side. The familiar messy black hair had become a light brownish-orange color. And, startling of all, his glasses had melted into his face-making him think of Trelawney and her bugged out eyes.

Her hand stopped the door before the owner could close it. "I'll be out of your hair as soon as you tell me something."

"I don't know anything," he mumbled.

Green eyes flashed, "how valuable would you say your things are?"

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well, if they were to get damaged, would you mind?" Her grin was twisted.

The man stepped back, allowing Willow and Harry to enter. He stared at the humpbacked man with disdain, "whose that?"

"Is it any of your business?" she answered his question with a question. "Now, before my associate makes free with the merchandise, do you know where Davenport House is?" She was fingering one of the globes idly, glancing at him beneath her lashes.

"No one goes to that dark place," he stuttered.

"That wasn't what I asked," she faced Harry, mouth opened when he interrupted.

"Lady, please!" he was sweating. "The only ones that know the location are those that have connections there."

Her eyes narrowed and she studied him, intently. When a familiar stench arose from him, she sighed. "Very well, would you be so kind as to tell us where we might find such a person?"

Trembling, the man dropped to his knees. "No, lady. But have mercy on me. I don't know anything of worth."

"Shini?" she asked Harry.

He grunted, remembering his time as Goyle-far more clearly than he liked but if it helped… "A little persuasion, Lady?"

Twinkling eyes met his for a moment, but she read the truth in them. Though he kinda enjoyed being seen as a heavy, it was not something he wanted to go all the way with. _Spoilsport_, she thought. _Still, it was his right to refuse_. And while she could certainly do some damage on her own, he would get caught up in any mess she made.

"The Dragon's Head Inn, down the corner and to the left. Can't miss it, its in a small hole. Knock twice, tell them the Asp sent you," he grasped her hand.

Brushing off her hands, she nodded her head. "Thank you, Mr. Asphodel. We shall most likely meet again if I do not find what I'm looking for." They left and she smirked, tossing up the staff and catching it quickly, "never thought watching Cordy would come in handy one day."

Harry was silent, "why Shini?"

"It's short for Shinigami, the Japanese god of death. At least, that is if the sources I read are correct." She paused to think, "I don't think Professor Snape would've sent us anywhere that we'd have to seek help from this kind of crowd. That would defeat the purpose of keeping us safe. No, I think the secret is in your mind."

"My mind? Why not yours?"

"Because I don't speak parseltongue," she pointed out reasonably. "I don't even know what it is."

Harry sighed, "I can speak to snakes."

"That's no good, I get nothing from that. Think, Shini, try to focus on what he said specifically to you," she urged.

"You heard what he said," he gnawed his lip. "Didn't you?"

"I heard the part about the house and the parseltongue, then we fled."

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated, "he said something about the Merlin Codex and getting it."

"Say it in parseltongue," she urged when they stood outside The Dragon's Head Inn.

He looked at her doubtfully but after Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was willing to give anything a try, no matter how foolish. "Merlin's Codex."

Nothing happened.

"What did you say?"

"What he told me to say," he snapped.

"Are you sure? May be you have to get it word perfect," she pressed.

Rolling his eyes, he tried again. If only to prove her wrong. "The Merlin Codex."

For a moment, it was quiet and still, not even a breeze blew down the alley. He turned towards her, a triumphant grin on his face before there was a painful tug on his whole body. Willow's face reflected the same surprise and wonder. The two felt themselves pulled through a tunnel of some kind, twisting in several directions before they landed in a heap in a warmed room.

A strange creature with large ears and huge eyes stared down at them. If she'd had the energy to do so, she would have screamed very loudly. It was dressed in what looked like a small, white tea towel. Its voice, when it spoke, was not painfully loud but there was still a squeaky sound to it that rang in their heads rather painfully. "My name is Lisander, the guardian of this place. I am here to welcome you to Davenport House, Master Potter. Mistress Rosenberg. If you will follow me, I will show you to your quarters."

Willow stared at the creature, "what?" Her nearly coherent reply was quite a feat of strength considering she felt like the world was still being ripped apart. Not waiting for a reply, she closed her eyes to wait until the world righted itself once more.

Harry, on the other hand, rolled over and stood up. "Not quite as subtle as a portkey but just as surprising. Lisander, how did you know to expect us when we didn't know we'd be coming ourselves?"

"Master Flitwick told me to expect you. He is coming to see Mistress Rosenberg tonight and thought that you would like to rest before he arrived," Lisander answered, poking the girl on the floor with his foot. "Is she okay?"

Harry sighed, heaving her to her feet over her vociferous complaints about the rocking world and how it was unfair to take advantage of her like that. "She's not used to wizarding travel."

"And you are late."

"Professor Snape!" Harry jumped, jostling Willow who stared at him grumpily. He ignored her, staring at his professor with a guilty expression on his face. "We didn't know."

"I had thought that one of you would have had enough sense to do as I told you to and not wasted your time exploring the street of Diagon Alley. Where were you?" his nose twitched. "You came here by way of Knockturn Alley?!?"

Willow glared, "well, its not like you gave us clear instructions."

"I told you to go around the corner and head for Davenport, using the parseltongue password," he was livid.

"You most certainly did not," she rounded on him. In perfect mimicry, she repeated his words.

Black eyes blazed, "he knows."

"Who knows?"

"The Dark Lord-Voldemort. He knows that we are here and was trying to trap you, Potter. The reasons for your capture, I well know. But I can't think as to why he'd want you, Miss. Rosenberg."

"May be it was because we were together," Harry tried.

Severus mused, shaking his head. "No. The Dark Lord never does anything without a reason. I really must see the Headmaster about this. How late did the professor say he was going to be?"

"An hour, no later," Lisander said, "I was told to prepare rooms and take you to them as soon as you came."

"All right. But first, who must I obliviate?"

"No one."

"Excuse me, Miss Rosenberg?"

"I disguised us. Like this," a series of images flashed between the foursome. "I may not know the area, but I'm not stupid."

He closed his eyes, "we need to have a talk soon about using your magic so freely. It is exhausting to both the source and the user."

"Yes, sir. But we really had no choice," Willow said, "and Harry tried to talk me out of it."

"Did he?"

Harry was silent, so Willow nodded emphatically.

"It seems you are capable of learning common sense after all, Mr. Potter."

End, part 4.

_Author's Note: Anyone think the wands are too creepy? I'll change them if the idea is just too icky._


	5. My Main Servant Is A Moron

_Thanks for the comments, both to new readers (Tituba, Guess Who, and Me) and old ones-even the ones that were never written but only thought about. Because I know you all really wanted to say something, so I say gracias!_

_Tiny, tiny update. Enjoy!_

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"Pettigrew, where exactly is my present?" The ever-present red glare of eyes never left the quivering mass lying prostrate upon the floor. "You know, the one you promised would be here within the hour if I let you _borrow_ a bit of mind-speak?"

"Lost, my lord, somewhere in Knockturn Alley," he barely managed to get out through bloodless lips.

"Lost. In Knockturn Alley," he repeated skeptically. "Harry Potter, the most famous boy wizard in the world and his mother. His **dead** mother, may I remind you of **that** little detail? And they simply wandered into one of the darkest spots of our world and, what, faded into nothing?"

"Yes," he answered miserably in that same quivering tone.

"I see," he drawled. His wand swung loosely in his hands as he studied the pathetic _thing_ on the ground. Shame that he had his uses, he felt the need to _Avada_ _Kedavra_ him for this trick. "Oh, get going while I feel generous but remain available, I may loose my good humor."

"You are beyond generous to me, my lord." Pettigrew groveled and crawled out the door, speaking praises all the way. "Most forgiving of you, most wonderful of you."

"Malfoy, tell me that you have some news for me. Like how Mrs. Potter managed to survive the killing curse," he drawled.

The blonde bowed before him, kissing the robe. "I was able to ascertain nothing from Snape, though it wasn't from lack of trying. Either he truly knows nothing-or is protected by more than his own occlemens ability."

"Did you at least see her?" he hissed.

Though he quaked, he remained firm of voice and posture. "Well, if it is Lily Evans Potter, she has come back in a younger and more powerful body. She was quite...pleasing to the eye."

"No signs of decay then?"

"None that I could see in the brief moment that I saw her before she and Potter fled."

Lord Voldemort silently contemplated this information, "so, she isn't back from the grave." He fell silent again, thinking about the situation. No one moved even as the hours passed by in a slow and agonizing manner. "Keep an eye on things through that boy of yours, Malfoy. You must bring him to me one day."

"Yes, my lord." He slowly rose to his feet and started towards the door, never turning his back on the Dark Lord.

"And Lucius," his follower tensed as the name hissed sibilantly through the room, "no more delays. I granted you that boy, you owe me."

"I will think of a reason for him to return home in a fortnight, my lord." _And may Narcissa forgive me for breaking this promise to her,_ he thought desperately. Arranged marriage it may have been but certainly not loveless.

"Do so," he watched him leave. "Crabbe, Goyle, bring Pettigrew to me. I...feel the need to expend some energy."

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_(To those who've read my "Dance With Death", no, Lily is not Willow like in that story. Willow is Willow, while Lily is definitely dead. But ol' Voldierocks doesn't know that. But he has to have a reason to want her and that works, doesn't it?)_


	6. My Hair! What happened to my hair?

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Severus followed Lisander, Harry and Willow up the stairs, grateful that Flitwick was coming. He had been unsure that the professor would be able to get away from Hogwarts and was relieved to know that he had gotten away. Headmaster Dumbledore had been most displeased to see him, even after he explained what they had found on the Hellmouth. It didn't seem to worry the headmaster at all that they had an untrained ambient mage running about, open to all kinds of influxes of powers and would be masters.

Her actions that afternoon alone left him shaken to the core. She was powerful, scarily so. And it frightened him to be exposed to it, it drew him in. With one hand, she could compel all the magic in the United Kingdom to come to her. And she didn't understand the danger in that, she just used it freely. He certainly hoped that the headmaster would change his mind about the importance of this visit when he heard about this.

Glancing up at her from the corner of his eye, he tried once more to read the source of her magic and was frustrated that it escaped him. It was something that he knew, that he recognized…but he couldn't quite hold onto the quicksilver thought.

But something else about her caught his eye. There was something different about her physical appearance that diminished her somehow. Making sure that both she and Potter were resting, he then made his own way into the room Lisander showed him.

Another thought shoved its way into his already crowded mind-what had the Dark Lord wanted with both students anyway? Surely, he could not suspect the nature of Willow's powers…then again, that was one of the reasons he had been so eager to have _him_ in his ranks at such a young age.

And kept forgiving his betrayals of him, though Severus was now kept on the outer edges of the ranks.

Shrugging off his thoughts as he rested on his bed, he figured that he'd shape it out in his mind later. After a little nap and a talk with Filius, he'd be much more aware.

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When Willow opened her eyes forcefully, there was a man sitting at the end of her bed. His presence startled her so much, she almost wished she had the energy to fall out of the bed. He had a shock of white hair and twinkling eyes. He also appeared to be rather short-though the power he wove around himself was heady. She tried not to do it but the weariness of her body compelled her to yield and she eventually drank it in.

"Ah, you are right, Severus. Quite a handy little ambient mage, isn't she?" His voice was squeaky but not painfully so.

"That's what I feared," he sighed, rubbing his forehead. She pulled magic from him and it left him weary. "Is there nothing to be done?"

"Oh, don't worry about a thing, my dear boy, she'll be fine. You should stop that before you give me a wizarding migraine from the drain," he advised, facing her again. But it was still in that gentle voice of his.

"Sorry," she pulled the covers over her head. With effort, she pulled back and locked herself down.

He laughed happily, gently pulling the covers back down so that she could see them. "I like to see the people that I'm talking to and there was no harm down to us, my dear child, you couldn't possibly know what you could happen. I shall introduce myself. I am Professor Filius Flitwick, while you are Miss Willow Rosenberg. Come along, let's get some meat on those bones, you are practically skin and bones like Severus here. Not healthy for either of you. Furthermore, you need it after today's happenings. From all I've heard, you had quite an adventure with Mister Potter."

Rising slowly, she was dismayed by the slight swaying of her body. "What?" she asked, looking at them in uncertainty.

Professor Flitwick took her arm with a clucking sigh. "I'm afraid that you shall do no magic for a while, child, you've quite drained all of your reserves. Until we find out from whence you draw your powers, you will be quite unable to use any of it."

"But isn't magic just magic?" she asked him, puzzled. It seemed odd to think of different sources for enchantments. "Doesn't it just come from within you, then you guide it by a wand? Or from all around and directed by a staff or a wand?"

"No. All magic has sources, roots for anchoring. Wand cores take their powers, their essences from other sources-not just the wizard. That is why it must resonate, it must call to your inner core. Any power from an outside source can be drawn from any source. But, and this I must stress, every mage has a _specific source_, it can be anything from the wind or water, from which to draw upon and renew its energy." Flitwick explained as they walked down the stairs and towards the dinning hall. "Few people realize that I am an ambient mage myself because I have been very careful not to take advantage of it in such a way as to draw attention to myself. I draw my energy from plants. Severus here has access to water magery, which is why I was able to recognize what he was. Though I will admit that I was blinded by the strength of his power, his extends much farther than mine."

"What of my wand?"

His head shook, knowing what it was she truly wished to ask. "Without much within you to balance off of right now, it will do you more harm than good."

"You've seen it then," she sighed.

"More like I felt it, child. It was hard to avoid the way it screamed its presence to me. As I represent life, the wand you possess represents an absence of life. Or life as we acknowledge it," he corrected himself with a chuckle. "But that is not the only reason I counsel against using it, I would not allow Severus to do so once I knew what he truly was."

Severus followed silently, musing about the way things stood with them now. How was he to explain to Giles what happened to her, how he'd failed in his promise to keep her safe and yet, brought her to the brink of death? On the positive side of things, he had figured out what was different about her. Thankfully, she was not vain. They'd have a hard enough time keeping Potter quiet about it without setting her off.

Thinking of that boy, where was he at the moment? Lupin's words about the boy's changing view of him greatly distressed him. Studying him closely, he began to see what the werewolf had been talking about.

It was…creepy.

That the Boy Who Lived would see in _him_ a mentor of the father variety was dismaying. He was not a cuddly, encouraging type. His world contained the harsh angles and definite lines of squares, full of certainties. Not circles of possibilities and warmth.

And yet, against all odds, the boy seemed to cling to him.

Was it possible that his actions backfired on him? He'd always tried to treat him as though he was a normal student, though he would admit to being harsher to him than times had called for. But he never crossed the line he'd set for himself, for all that he threatened to do so. Though labeled a monster by the world, he was not one in truth.

Contrary to popular belief, he did have his own line of morals that he would not violate. Potter was just like any other child-even if his name was more known. He needed to have limits set for him, needed boundaries or he'd become to dangerous. He needed to know how far he could push those limits. Severus Snape was more than willing to provide them.

And maybe that's where he went wrong with Potter.

As galling as the thought was, may be he should have ignored the chance to vent old hatreds and just let the boy be. If he'd ignored him or treated him like anyone else, they wouldn't be in this mess of a situation.

As it was, they were both trapped by the circumstances and he didn't have a clue on how to regain his footing on this most uneasy ground. Dealing with Lord Voldemort had been easier than this. However, Potter needed him to continue to act in the same manner and to train him for what was coming.

As much as he hated it, Headmaster Dumbledore was correct. He was the only one who could for none other had such an intimate knowledge of the Dark Lord's mind. Nor the workings of dark magics, which Potter would need a base in if he was to combat that thing on equal ground.

But how long would this balancing act go on before Sirius Black realized what was occurring?

If his merely being on speaking terms with Potter's father sent that mangy mutt into a mindless rage that almost cost Lupin his freedom and him his own life, how would this new situation between him and the boy affect Black?

He shuddered, grateful that it went unnoticed.

Harry came out of the room, a smile on his face that faded when he focused on her. Green eyes widened in disbelief and he shook his head, puzzled. "Merlyn's bones, Willow, what did you do to your hair? I know you're into freedom of expression but really…doing that to yourself?"

"What?" Willow paled, turning to face Severus. "What's he talking about?"

He sighed, _must refrain from killing the boy_. Before he could reply, Flitwick beat him to it. "I don't see what the problem is, surely you've seen her hair like this before."

"She's a redhead, Professor. Not a Malfoy double," Harry replied.

"Malfoy?" she mouthed. Running over to a window, she looked at her reflection. Her hand trembled as it touched the strands that floated by her face. "Where did my color go?"

"I would imagine that your reserves are kept in your hair. When you expended it all over the place, it began to bleed away. I suspected as much when you came back from Knockturn Alley and the color seemed to be leaving at a rapid rate. This has never happened to you before," Snape surmised, "therefore you did not expect it."

But she wasn't really focusing on his explanation. Without the color of red framing her face, she give the impression of being a vampire. "My hair? What happened to my hair? How does Draco stand this? There's no definition here. I look like I've just risen from the grave."

"Its not all bad, it brings out your eyes."

Scarily true, it was a thought they all shared. The vibrant jade of her eyes stared out at them, shocking in that pale, white face. It was like the sign of the Death Eaters, floating in that white face. They shivered at the thought, wishing that it had never come to mind. "Will this happen all the time?" she asked.

Flitwick approached, "not at all, if you learn to control yourself. Severus used to have a lot of problems himself. His problem went a bit deeper in the beginning since none of us could properly tell what he was, magically speaking. It wasn't until he began throwing up silver tinged blood that I realized what was wrong."

"Silver blood?"

"Ambient mages have magic in their blood that calls to magics outside of them. If those magics are called and not used, they become solid and try to fill up all available space-hence the silver in the blood." Flitwick told her, nodding sadly. "We nearly lost him."

"Filius," he warned, not wanting to go into that again. He'd made a mistake but it hadn't been deliberate. How was he to know that a recessive gene in his family would've emerged in his own magical abilities and alter his own signature?

"Why couldn't it just go away?" she asked, desiring not to have another outburst from Professor Snape that might lead to an argument. Plus, she admitted to having a slight bit of curiosity about her nature as well.

"Called magic cannot leave of its own violation. They must be used or sent back by conscious order of the mage," Flitwick explained. "You see, once they become intertwined with a source, they become a _part_ of that source. Though the magics were originally free, they became part of another source and thus are no longer a free entity."

"I see," she mused softly. "How long will this last?"

"Considering how much you've been doing, I would imagine a week."

"A week!" she shrieked, cutting Severus off.

He glared at her and she looked down at the ground. "Miss. Rosenberg, please refrain from acting like a fishwife. If you are going to be so careless as to toss around magic as though it was rainwater, then you must accept the consequences of such actions. A week at most. Given how much power you've shown an inclination for in the past, I would hazard a guess that it will return in a day or two. Mind you, this does not give you the right to go back out and throw it around. You must learn caution."

"Yes, professor," she whispered.

"Severus, be nice," Filius scolded him. "You must remember that she is new to this-and you were much the same way with your own power."

"But I was younger than she," he reminded his colleague.

"That is not an excuse, Severus. Miss. Rosenberg has not lived in our world and been even lightly trained. You, on the other hand, have had the benefit of several _centuries_ of others' experiences to teach you. Moreover, you have learned all about magic at home and in school."

He bowed his head, accepting the rebuke with surprising grace. "I apologize for my harsh words but I do not take them back."

"I understand, Professor Snape. I will try harder in the future to remember that this is not the stuff of fairy tales. This is real and as such, has its own limits and rules," she whispered, keeping her head down.

Harry had stood the entire time, watching this with wide and confused eyes. When his professor apologized, he openly gaped. "What is going on?"

"Mr. Potter, kindly recall the lesson Mr. Malfoy taught on our travel through the _Crenna_, that there are two branches of magic. There is the one in which most of our world dwell in This is known as academic magery-magic that comes through learning. Then there is another one, lesser populated branch of artifice-that of ambient magery, called magic. The three of us are ambient mages. You will notice that, though there are a few exceptions, none of us actually us spells when we do our work. There is no need. Of course, there is a third branch that does not actually apply to our world at all because it comes from a much older source. You will learn more about that if you continue your studies under a teacher far more suited than Professor Binns."

"How do you know you're an ambient mages?" Harry asked curiously. They made their way towards the table where Lisander had laid out a substantial meal, though the thought of eating made Willow feel slightly ill.

"There are signs. Uncontrollable magic. Power that comes from no obvious sources. Sickness with no discernable indication of illness. Being able to do really powerful spells without a wand or use of words. Spells that are more than simply growing hair out to avoid embarrassment. Or trapping one's cousin behind a plate of glass in a zoo," he slyly said.

He flushed, "you said the magics are called. If that's so, why aren't they more common?"

"A remarkably astute question, Mr. Potter," Snape remarked, somewhat surprised by it. _The boy may have a brain under all that hair after all_, he thought. "The Witch Trials had a lot to do with it. During that time, many learned to shunt that power, with the result that it dwindled and became a lesser branch of magic."

"Does it make you more powerful than other wizards?"

"In one way it does. But in others, it's more trouble than it's worth. If you do not know about it, you do risk strangling yourself on the magic itself. For an ambient mage, magic is alive and has a will of its own-one that it will use. Greater strength must be called upon to keep it in control, sometimes one must have a stronger person to help contain and guide the magic. Of course, it does have the habit of making your emotions act up, sometimes to the extremes."

"Like Headmaster Dumbledore's insane cheerfulness?" Harry asked.

Severus bit his lip to prevent from smiling. It would never do for the boy to think that he thought he was humorous-even if he did agree with the assessment. "That is one example, though neither Professor Flitwick or I have seen any sign that he is like us."

"But he is powerful?"

"There is no denying his power, Mr. Potter, for he is powerful. I am just saying that he could not be an ambient mage. His power lines run through another source, an inside source. Through his learning though, he may have figured out a way to borrow the strength that he needs to do what is necessary to serve and protect our world-even if his methods are questionable. Without depleting himself or the basis he tapped into." He raised an eyebrow, watching as Harry packed away his food. "Hungry?"

"Busy day," he replied.

"Please, I do not need to see your food once it's in your mouth."

"Sorry, sir." He didn't look repentant at all though, a small smirk twisting his lips. Every once in a while, he enjoyed playing up to his professor's image of him as a spoiled brat with no manners. Though more and more he was beginning to realize that he may be mistaken in what his professor actually thought about him.

"Miss. Rosenberg, I realize that you do not want to eat but you must. Try the soup first, start small and build up. Never let your eyes get bigger than your stomach, I always say," Flitwick advised her, a small amount of food on his plate.

"Not going to be a problem, sir." She reached out for the potato soup when she felt something. Tensing, she recognized the strange tingle in the air.

_Poof_!

"Severus, Filius, Harry, good to see you here. And you are?" Headmaster Dumbledore had appeared in the middle of the table, startling Willow and sending her across the room. Twinkling blue eyes watched the girl as she stared at him, wide eyed. Wide, green eyes.

"Oh, my," she whispered.

"Willow, stop that. This is Headmaster Dumbledore. Headmaster, this is Willow Rosenberg," he introduced them. "If you kindly recall, I told you about her earlier."

"Ah, so you did." He studied her, a cheerful smile on his face. Something about her puzzled him though, just as Ollivander had said. Those eyes were quite distinctive and he knew he'd seen them someplace before.

"Hi," she shyly waved at the tall, bearded man twinkling down at her.

"Hello. May I call you Willow?"

"Okay," she whispered, still standing by the wall.

Harry smiled widely, this scene amused him as little had lately. Just when he thought the American couldn't do anything else to shock him, she went and did something like this and reminded him that as powerful as she was, she was a kid like him. He found it reassuring.

The Headmaster climbed down from the table and sat between Harry and Severus. Though he wasn't looking at her, she got the oddest feeling he was still staring at her. "Please, don't let me disturb you. Come back to the table and eat. I promise you, I don't bite. That's a job I leave to others more qualified than I."

She laughed nervously, slowly returning to the table. This was the second person in this world that absolutely unnerved her, the first being Ollivander. The redhead wasn't sure how she felt about it. All she felt was an intense desire to get back to what she knew. This place frightened her. She wanted to go back to what was normal for her.

Well, as normal as the Hellmouth was.

"Stop cowering from the headmaster. I assure you that the scariest thing about him is that infernal twinkle that he cannot seem to loose. No matter how many people plead and beg him to do so," Severus snapped.

"Severus, stop being so unkind to the dear child," Albus scolded him.

Harry hid his smile this time.

After all, smiling about Willow's error was one thing. Laughing at Professor Snape outright was quite another thing entirely. This was the second time in less than an hour that he got to see his stern professor taken to task. He liked it. Other than glowering at the Headmaster, Professor Snape did nothing. "What are you doing here, sir?" he asked, wondering what had brought the headmaster out of the school. "Is it Voldemort?"

"Ah, Harry, no. I'm not here because of Voldemort. But thank you for reminding me that I have yet to tell you why I'm here without warning you," he turned to smile at the Gryffindor and it hit him. _Harry's eyes_! _Lily's distinctive, one of a kind green eyes_! "Merlyn's Beard, that's it! That's where I've seen your face before. You look remarkably like Lily Evans Potter-except for the hair, of course. Hers was red. But those eyes are definitely unmatched."

Harry paled, his spoon dropping from numb fingers. "But her hair usually _is_ red."

"Of course! He thinks she's her," Severus muttered. "I am such an incompetent idiot. I should've seen it right away. How ignorant and blind I've been."

"Her who?" Willow asked, watching them and trembling.

Professor Flitwick patted her hand. "No need to be so afraid, child. It is a dear friend of ours."

"Is this something I should be sitting for?"

"But, you are sitting," Filius said with a baffled smile.

"That's good because I think I need to be," she mumbled.

"She was my mother," Harry softly said. "Lord Voldemort-the dark wizard who tried to get us earlier today-killed her in an attempt to get to me. There's this prophecy that says that Voldemort will chose and mark his own rival. That this rival and he will battle each other-and only one will emerge victorious."

"Not one of those things," she groaned.

"You have experience with them?" Filius asked her, since no one else seemed particularly desirous of the task.

She snorted. "Oh, yes. There was one in my sophomore year that predicted the slayer's death."

"Buffy?" Harry guessed. He'd only met the blonde girl once but it had been comforting to know that he wasn't the only one shoved into an unwanted and painful destiny.

"Yup, by the master's hand. Following after a child, she was lead unto her destruction. He did. She died. She came back. They fought. He was defeated. Another did get called, thus there are now two slayers. It made for a very interesting year for Buffy," she recapped quickly.

"She died?" Harry exclaimed.

"That's what I said."

"How?"

"The Master bit and drowned her."

"Master? The founder of the Order of Aurelius?" Severus asked. "But we were lead to believe that he was trapped."

"Well, he was but slayer blood and some sucky prophecy freed him," she said.

"He's dead? Are you quite sure of this?"

"Yes, he was pounded into pemmican before us earlier this year. Well, at the start of our school year," she replied, puzzled. "Didn't you know that, professor?"

Snape shook his head, "Lord Voldemort will be most displeased to hear of this. That particular vampire was one he hoped to bring into his forces."

"But what is this you were saying about prophecies?" Headmaster Dumbledore redirected the conversation back to the topic at hand.

She blinked at him, startled, then remembered what they had been talking about. "Oh, right. Uhm, where do I start? Oh, yeah, I know. Doing some independent study of my own-cause I have that kind of time on my hands-I realized that most prophecies are vague and impotent until something happens to alter that. It is my humble opinion that prophecies mean nothing _until_ they are believed to be the absolute truth. When that happens, they take on the power of that belief and become somewhat irrefutable."

"Wait," Harry stopped her, an incredulous look on his face. "Are you telling me that none of this would've happened to me if someone hadn't believed that Professor Trelawney spoke the truth?"

"Yes and no."

"It's either one or the other," he growled.

"Well, I…" she trailed off, unable to come up with the words to explain herself.

"I believe I see what you are saying," Severus spoke up. "Not in the wizarding world, Harry. Magic is infinite here. It is real and lives in everything. When those words were spoken, belief in divination's truth was already an established fact."

"Belief gave the words power of its own," she interrupted with an apologetic smile. "Thus, it was able to grow with every person who believed in it. You survived death, thus placing the ultimate seal of authority on it."

End, Part Six.


	7. I Went Away and Got A Little Work Done

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Upon returning from England, Willow went to the library. "Giles," she called out. "You here?"

"What happened to your hair?" Cordelia asked. "A slight accident with hair dye? What are you trying to do? Prove that you're colorblind? And you were doing so well with emerging from that fashion victim look you were trapped in."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cordelia." She sat down despondently, resting her head on the cool desktop. "No accident, just a result of my foolish, American heedlessness."

"What?" Buffy asked, gently touching her white hair. Though unbelievable, it was really real. Willow's hair no longer shone like blood. Now, it was like a pure snowfall.

"Apparently, if I use too much magic, this is what happens. It's where I store my reserves," she replied, taking comfort from her friend's touch.

"I let you leave our sight for a few days and this is what happens. They turn you into a punk," Xander teased, entering the room. "For shame."

"Should we restrict your circle of acquaintances?" Oz asked.

Giving them a weak smile, she sat up. "Is Giles here? I'd only like to explain this once."

"Explain what, Miss. Rosenberg?" They knew that voice.

From their various positions in the room, they turned in startled surprise towards the door and stared at Kendra, the second Vampire Slayer. Beside her was a man they did not recognize. Tall, dark skinned, and splendidly built with a large aquiline nose and deep-set eyes, he bowed regally towards them. Willow rose and bowed with the others, even as Buffy asked the question on all of their minds.

"Kendra? What are you doing here? And who is this?"

"This is my watcher, Mr. Sam Zabuto." Kendra gestured to each of the group in turn and introduced them-by name and title. "Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer. Willow Rosenberg, Apprentice Witch. Cordelia Chase, the Fashion Maven. Xander Harris, the Best Friend. And Daniel Ozborne, the Werewolf."

"People call me Oz," he quietly contradicted.

"Quite an eclectic group of students you gather around yourself, Miss. Summers. Do you not find that it interferes with your slaying duties?"

"Nope, find that it suits me just fine," she replied, tensing.

Mr. Zabuto nodded, keeping his opinions to himself. "Where is your watcher, Mr. Giles?"

"Right here, Mr. Zabuto. I did not realize that the two of you would be making a stop here after you visited the Council," he said, entering the room. Glancing around, he stopped and stared in wide-eyed shock. "Willow, what have you done to yourself?"

"Magic," she softly replied, sitting down. "Let me give you all the low down."

Knowing this might take some time, they gathered around the table and sat down. Giles was about to secure the library doors when Amy came in. "Did I miss anything…nice hair, Willow."

Weakly smiling, she waited until the doors were locked and Giles had joined them. The last thing they needed was for anyone to interrupt them. Though still unsure of their place, Kendra and Mr. Zabuto sat with them. In the center of the table, Willow placed a thin, gray stick.

"This is my wand. Yes, I know it looks dead. It was made of dead things. Professor Snape says that's to best protect me here in the Land of the Dead. As for my hair, well that's a bit difficult. See, I'm an ambient mage, which means that I call magic to me, not learn it from books and spells like other wizards do. While I can use a wand to balance and focus my powers, they don't come solely from it. Somehow, I call the magic to me and it comes, storing itself in my hair instead of my blood alone. Well, at least the reserves store themselves there. The magic that I need to use instantly, flows through my blood and mingles with my natural powers. We haven't yet figured out where the source for them is, though Professor Flitwick-he teaches charms at Hogwarts and is a plant mage-tried to do so. Professor Snape is stymied as well, though he fears that my foundation is the Hellmouth itself. I worry that that might be the case myself since there seems to be no magical roots in my family.

"Though Mr. Ollivander, he's the wand maker and generally creepy individual, seems to think that I should be able to find out my magical heritage easily. He believes that it's important, he hinted about it while searching for my wand anyway. I think Headmaster Dumbledore-who is the principal of Hogwarts and really freaked me out-is going to do some research to find out what exactly is going on there. Hopefully, I won't prove to be related to anyone in that world, otherwise I may have to move there and go to school. Which would be really bad because there is this guy who sorta died but only he didn't and he's back. His name is Lord Voldemort. Well, that's what he wants everyone to call him anyway. He seems to think that there's a possibility that I'm Harry's mother, the one he killed some fifteen years ago. Honestly, do I really look old enough to be his mother?" she ended, looking around.

Mr. Zabuto stared at her, then stood up and leaned closer. "I do not believe you breathed more than once during that whole speech. Are you quite human?"

Staring up at the big, black man looming over her, she felt her life flash before her eyes. "Uh-huh."

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"That would be a little sample of Willow speak," Xander said, glaring at him. "And back off, you're scaring her."

He straightened and looked at Giles. "You allow these children such freedoms?"

"They are no more children than you or I, Mr. Zabuto. If anything, they are more adult than many in the Council claim to be. Already, they have saved the world three times. Do not be so unwise as to lightly discredit them," there was a slight warning to his voice. His posture clearly revealed that he was upset by the way the other watcher dismissed his kids.

"_Alohamora_!" Someone shouted and the door unlocked, Harry peaked around it and widely smiled in relief. "Oh, good. You are here, I was afraid I might have to search the cemeteries trying to find you, something that would tick Professor Snape and my godfather off. Professor Lupin wants to see you, Buffy. Something about helping him prepare a few lessons for his Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Said you had some updated information on vampires."

"Who are you?" Kendra demanded, but she restrained herself from rising to attack him. Though she was a slayer, this was not her call. As she and her watcher had decided, this was still Buffy's calling and she was there as aid. Besides, she remembered well her last time here.

"That's Harry Potter, my would be son," Willow wryly said. "He's also the _Boy Who Lived_ with quite a prophecy in the future."

"Not another one of the butt ugly things," Buffy groaned.

"Yes, another one of those things that someone who died prophesied about ages ago," she snarked.

"Actually, Professor Trelawney's not dead. She may be loonier than a fruitcake but she's quite alive," the boy who lived muttered.

"Oh, a Dru wanna be," Xander quipped.

"Trelawney?" Mr. Zabuto asked. "Granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney? While she is not quite the seer her grandmother was, she is not bad. It was Cassandra who in vision revealed to us the reason behind our visit to you."

"Which is?" Giles prodded.

"The end of the world," the other watcher flatly stated.

"Again?" the teen-agers chorused. "But we do this every few months."

"Look on the bright side, Buffy, it means evil has no creativity and will never be able to stun you with any plan of true brilliance," the witch shrugged. "I mean, seriously, they always try to conquer the world and they always fail. I wonder, do they sell their brains when they go evil, thus justifying the memory loss?"

"Willow," Giles warned. "While I appreciate humor, please keep the levity down."

"Sorry," she traced a pattern on the table.

Turning to Mr. Zabuto, Giles began to ask him questions. "What did this seer tell you?"

"Cassandra Trelawney informed us of this Lord Voldemort that Miss. Rosenberg mentioned in her long winded explanation. You may or may not be aware of this, but Mayor Wilkins has tapped into ancient powers. He has long sought immortality and is, in fact, his own grandfather. At some point in the near future, this Lord Voldemort will come and propose a union between them. Lord Voldemort desires the demon connection that Mayor Wilkins will bring to their alliance. Mayor Wilkins will benefit from the union by the simple fact that Lord Voldemort will bring forth the powers that will allow him to transcend the boundary of mortality to true immortality."

"Lovely," Xander muttered.

"I do not find it so," he stated, staring at the young man contemptuously.

"I suppose sarcasm is to hard a concept for you to understand," he retorted.

"Xander, please," Giles rubbed his forehead. "Any specifics?"

"None that I would be able to explain easily. What we knew for sure was that we should be here, offering you our added support in this coming trial."

"It's going to be that bad?"

"I would envision that it will be much worse than anything we have yet experienced. All that we have studied about what the Mayor intends to do reveals that opening the Hellmouth and human sacrifices will be the prevailing theme. But as it has only happened one in our history, sources are very slim on how to stop his ascension once it has started. What I do know is that he will need to have an eclipse to access the full extent of the powers available to him."

"Do you believe the mayor will join Voldemort?" Harry asked, resting his head on him hands. "I mean, even if he helps him get what he wants, he loses his ability to chose his path. He will become a slave to the Dark Lord. What kind of trade is that?"

"When Professor Lupin asked you to get Miss Summers, I do not believe that he intended you to stay and have a nice, long chat with them."

"Probably not, Professor Snape. But he never said I couldn't, either," Harry replied with a cheeky grin, knowing that he was not pushing things at the moment. There was interest in Snape's eyes after all.

"Cheeky brat," he muttered.

"And you are?"

"Professor Severus Snape, Mr. Zabuto," he coolly introduced himself, inclining his head fractionally.

Though shocked that the dark man knew who he was, he didn't let it show, turning instead to Giles. "Is this practice of non-watchers walking into your chosen area of working quite _normal_?"

"Quite," Giles answered. "Buffy, you may go with Harry now."

"What of her duty to patrol the streets?"

"Chill, I've got it covered. Oz?" Buffy asked the werewolf.

Shaking his head, he replied. "No possible risings that I was able to find."

"Thanks. Will, you ready to go?"

She rose, "I'll see you tomorrow, Xander. Cordy. Amy. Oz."

"Sure, Wills."

Cordelia got up, "are you sure you're okay?"

Definitely surprised by this unexpected concern, Willow couldn't speak for a moment. "I'm getting there."

"What?" she defended herself, stung by their looks. "I'm allowed to show concern for someone other than myself, aren't I?"

"Of course, you are, Cordy," Xander soothed. "We're just not used to it."

"It isn't your normal mode of being," Oz commented.

She huffed, leaving the room. Xander rolled his eyes, before following her.

Amy spoke up then, "Will, do you want to stay with me?"

"Nah, I'm fine in the mansion," she gasped. "Oh, that's right. You don't know about that."

"About what?"

"My staying in the mansion with them," she explained with a shrug. "Professor Snape, Harry Potter, this is Amy Madison. I told you about her, remember?"

Severus turned his intense study onto the dark haired witch, who trembled under it. There was something about this man that made her think he could see into her very soul. "Yes, you mentioned her in passing to Professor Lupin when he asked about the cheerleader trophy. Something about its moving eyes, I wasn't quite listening."

"They know about my mom?" Amy whispered, horrified.

"We know all about every witch who practices dark magics," he warned, letting them know he heard her. "I hope that you have ceased to practice such things. They never end well."

Confronted with the penetrating dark eyes, she could only nod. "Yes, sir. I learned my lesson after a disastrous Valentine's Day spell."

Stifling a groan at what that could possibly mean, he thinly smiled at her. _At least the girl showed __**some**__ common sense, even if it had been rather late to stop such foolish spells of love. Bothersome magic_. "That is good to hear, Miss. Madison. Your family line is rather strong in what some naively refer to as white magic. Do not let them down."

"I won't," she fervently said.

"See that you don't. May we leave now?"

Buffy turned away from her quiet discussion with Giles and nodded at him. "Lead on, oh, mighty scowling one." With a flagrant wave of her hand and mocking bow, she was the first out the door.

Harry and Willow chuckled a little before following her.

Severus let the comment slide by. In his estimation, it was marginally better than what the students had been saying about him for years.

It was more creative, at least. All the Hogwarts students seemed capable of was throwing the same gossip and stories about him around. It often became…wearisome to be thought of as a vampire.

"Your slayer needs to work on her attitude. She shows no respect for you or her calling."

"Stuff it," Giles snapped. "My slayer is exactly as she needs to be. It's you and the Watcher's Council who are sadly out of touch with the reality of what we deal with today."

"And what is that?"

"A world were the demons are far better prepared than we are. They do not fear to use the new technologies that have been invented. This world we deal with is far more dangerous to the slayer and us. We need to change with the times if we ever hope to continue with our sacred duty."

Kendra kept silent, but she knew from experience that Mr. Giles was correct. The world was changing and they needed to change with it.

"You train your slayer the way you see fit," he stiffly said. "Leave my slayer to the tried and true methods that have always worked for us."

"They work only because the slayers haven't had to deal with a truly active Hellmouth on a nightly basis," he sighed, yielding because he had no desire to fight about this His battles with the Council wearied him enough as it was. "But I will say no more on the subject. You will do what you think is right. Amy, please, don't play with that. It looks dangerous."

Amy dropped the wand, flushing guiltily. "I was just looking."

"Well, try not to touch it. What I know of wands isn't excessive but what I do know is this-that the wand chooses the wizard, not the other way around. I don't know what it'll do to one it doesn't rightfully belong to," he warned. "It might not affect you at all-or it could cause you a world of harm merely by handling it improperly. I suppose I should put that in a safe place. Only I haven't the faintest clue of where one would put a wand."

Oz rose and pocketed it, knowing that there was no danger in him touching it. Professor Lupin had told him that much. "I'll take it. I should talk to Professor Snape about his potion anyway."

"Potion?"

"He makes Professor Lupin a potion that helps during the transformations. The professor wasn't able to explain it fully but it seems to put the wolf to sleep." Occasionally, near the full moon, Oz tended towards loquaciousness. It still had a tendency to surprise Giles.

"What has that to do with you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Professor Lupin seemed rather surprised to find out that I changed three nights out of the month and have experienced no pain at all. I expect he thought that it would help me in some manner. He probably would've suggested that I talk to Professor Snape about it if he hadn't been so startled."

"Why would that surprise him? He is a werewolf, isn't he?"

"I believe that werewolves in the wizarding world are different in that they change only once during the cycle of the full moon," Mr. Zabuto offered.

"That was what he told me," Oz confirmed. "I should be on my way. We have a rehearsal tomorrow and I'd like to make sure that all my safety precautions are in place. That earthquake we had might've caused some damage to the cell and I'd rather know while I can fix it rather than after I've hurt someone irreparably. Or killed someone through honest ignorance."

"I'll go with you," Amy eagerly offered, wanting to get away from the two strangers. It wouldn't have been so bad if she knew more about them but as she didn't, she felt uncomfortable with them-especially after Snape's words. "There's a few things I'd like to find out from Willow."

Watching them go, Giles asked the visitors if they had a place to stay.

"The Watcher's Council has arranged for us to stay in a hotel," the watcher replied. "We shall be here in the morning before school begins. I should like to see where you train Miss. Summers to perform her duty in peak condition."

"You are already in our training area," he informed him.

"You are joking."

"I am not," he dryly said. "The council does not hold any place here, therefore, I work with what's available."

"Then I shall have to make due with this limited space," he dourly said. "Come along, Kendra, we shall return to our rooms after performing a sweep of the area. I wish to see how well you perform in this environment."

"Yes, Mr. Zabuto." Rising, she nodded her good-bye to Giles and followed her watcher out of the room.

777

"Miss. Summers, I feel that I must warn you about Professor Lupin," Severus began as they came into view of the mansion.

"I know that he's a werewolf. I could feel it," she interrupted.

"But he is not a werewolf like Oz," he pointed out. "As a wizard, his wolf senses are more advanced and in tune with the world about him. He _will_ sense the threat in you. He _will_ sense that you are a superior hunter, a superior warrior. In other words, the alpha in the world that the wolf part of him inhabits, so he will be subservient to you."

"What?" she asked in disbelief. "Willow, is he saying what I think he's saying?"

"He's saying what you think he's saying," she dutifully replied.

"I have to assert myself as the dominant warrior over him?" Buffy semi-asked.

"Not really assert," he hedged for a moment. "Professor Lupin is in charge. But some of the behaviors he shows will be the wolf's. He won't meet your eyes. I doubt he will confront you directly. Any questions he asks will be indirect and spoken in a way so as to not bring attention to himself."

"So what do I do?"

"Try not to make him feel threatened," he replied calmly. "That's about the only advice I can offer for now. The best person to ask would be Sirius Black. They have been friends for years and there is no other living soul who knows how to handle him when he's near the full moon."

"But he's just a wizard, right?"

End, Part Seven.


	8. Open Mouth, Insert Foot

_Author's Note: Yes, Sirius and Severus are acting rather nice to each other. Well, they have a 'truce' of sorts, so I am writing them that way. In other words, they may be snippy with each other but they won't be nasty._

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"Actually, my godfather is an unregistered animagus." Harry supplied, sparing Severus the necessity of saying anything.

"And that is?"

"A wizard with the ability to become an animal," Harry said.

Buffy's eyebrow rose skeptically. "An animal?"

Before anyone could reply, a large black dog rounded the corner and leapt on Harry, knocking him to the ground. After thoroughly licking his face, he backed off and transformed.

"Speak of the devil," Severus muttered.

"And he shall appear," Sirius finished snidely. "Not very original, _Severus_."

"Why be original when we're talking about you, Black?" he asked, acid dripping from his words. "And, while I agreed to behave like a civilized adult around you, I never gave you the liberty to use my name."

"This is you being civilized? Thanks for telling me, the civility of your manner escaped me." The reply came sarcastically, though he was looking around at the assembled group curiously-especially the blonde whose eyes had narrowed at his name.

"Sirius Black? The murder? The escaped criminal?" Buffy asked, her voice low with warning. Willow looked at her curiously never having heard of him or of his situation. Buffy shook her head negatively, now was not the time to go into it.

Besides, why tell her friend that the Watcher's Council had informed her of his escape on the off chance that he came to Sunnydale on an errand for the Dark Lord. That they had ordered her not to say anything to her friends about him. She had reluctantly agreed when they'd threatened to harm her mother if she attempted to cross them.

"The escaped, wrongly imprisoned and accused criminal, my lady." He bowed over her hand, making as if to kiss it.

She pulled it away quickly and stared at him, hard eyed. There was something in his manner that reminded her of Angel and after falling for him and being burned, she wasn't doing it again. "I've heard that kind of thing before. Fell for it once, ain't falling for it now."

Severus sighed. "Unfortunately, Miss. Summers, in this instance, he is being honest. The Ministry did imprison him unjustly."

"Why, Severus, are you defending my honor? I'm flattered," Sirius fawned over him facetiously. Not that he was _really_ interested in Snape. In his mind, there was no one living who could find the greasy git attractive. It was just that they had been at each other's throats for so long, that he'd become bored with the old ways of torturing him. This was new---and it was hilariously delightful.

"No one thinks you're amusing, Black-and stop calling me Severus," he snapped. _Stop letting him get to you, Severus. He's just doing it because you've reacted to it_.

"But it's so much fun to see your face when I take such liberties, Severus," he drawled for effect.

Before the professor could reply, Oz and Amy appeared on the road. "Hey."

"Hey," she greeted them. "What's up?"

"Nothing. But you forgot this," Oz handed her the wand.

"Miss. Rosenberg," Severus said in exasperation. "Kindly remember that your wand should _always_ remain in your possession. It is not a toy to be carelessly used and discarded."

"Severus," Remus called out. "Be kind to her. She's new to all of this."

"New or not, she should show more responsibility for her wand."

"As you say," Sirius mocked. "But aren't _you_ the one who forgot _your_ wand all during first year?"

With a nasty glare at the reminder of his past, he answered with ill temper. "Thus I speak from learned experience, which is more than I can say for you. The only thing you are able to teach is advanced idiocy-and that is something anyone can be."

"I'm supposed to look to the both of you for guidance?" Buffy asked. "I think Mr. Zabuto would be more informative than you two."

Willow shook her head in exasperation, "which explains Oz. But what are you doing here, Amy?"

"I was curious. What is it that you do here, exactly?"

"Study magic," Willow shrugged. "What else?"

"But what kind of magic?" she pressed.

"I'll see you later," Oz said, turning to go, but then he looked at the professor. "Professor Snape, would it inconvenience you to take some time tomorrow to see me?"

"I have nothing pressing on my schedule tomorrow."

"Then I shall see you in the afternoon."

"Thanks for bringing this to me," she waved to him with the wand-until she saw Severus staring at her reproachfully. Instantly, the wand was tucked away. A sheepish grin crossed her face. "I'll get the hang of the hiding it sooner or later. Stop being such a droopy pants."

Sirius laughed, "I like that one."

"Oh, I don't think that's a good idea. Guys who like me tend to get possessed and try to eat me. Or turn out to be a werewolf-and still try to eat me. Or turn out to be Moloch the Corrupter himself and try to break my neck no matter what I do," she quipped cheerfully. At the same time, the admission was a sober reminder of the life she had here. "Come on, Amy. I'll introduce you around and you can talk to Hermione. She'll tell everything that you want to know-and some things you don't."

Willow and Amy made their way upstairs with Willow talking a mile a minute. As usual. "Hey, Ron," she greeted the redhead sitting on the stairs.

"Willow," he returned the greeting, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Seeing the state her hair was in, he almost said something but thought better of it. One woman in his life being mad was more than enough for him. "Who's your friend?"

"Amy Madison, Ron," she introduced them easily, relieved that he'd said nothing, though she could see the questions burning in his eyes. "Ron Weasley, Amy."

"How do you do?"

"I do very well, and you?" she asked, studying the redhead. He didn't seem to be a bad guy, unlike the men she'd met so far. And, while Harry seemed like a nice enough young man, there was something rather _off_ about him. That could, of course, be that whole destiny thing of his.

He shrugged, "been better. Hermione's mad at me, though I'm not sure exactly why this time. I'm pretty sure I didn't do anything this time. Though I did ask about her hair."

"Her hair?" Willow asked, her own hand rose to touch her own hair, still sensitive about it.

"She's got a series of blonde streaks running all through her brown hair. I told her it looks really strange when she asked. Not Hermione like," he explained.

Exchanging looks with Amy, the other girl decided not to say where he'd gone wrong. If he didn't know by now, he probably wouldn't get it if they tried to tell him. "So, she's not in the talky mood?"

"What? Oh," he quickly figured out what she meant. These Americanisms really confused him at times-especially when it seemed like she was making it up as she went just to confuse him. "Not really, she's sulking."

"I do not sulk, Ronald Weasley." A chilly voice corrected from one of the rooms. "I am merely avoiding _your_ odious presence." The young woman walked towards them, studying first Willow, then the girl she was with curiously.

Opening his mouth to object, Ron thought better of it and shrugged. "If you say so, Hermione. Will, a word with you about our project."

"Cripes, I forgot all about that." She slapped her forehead, then winced at the pain. "Oh, that wasn't such a smart thing to do. Amy, meet Hermione Granger. Hermione, meet Amy Madison. Would you do me a favor and introduce her around? She's a witch."

"Like you?" she asked, apprehensively. Being alone with a witch like Willow was a bit intimidating-and having to take her around and warn others was not a happy prospect.

"Not quite," Amy said. "My power is generational."

"Meaning?" she asked, interested. Even if she was afraid, she was deeply interested in learning all about this new magic.

"I descend from a long line of priestesses serving the Mother Goddess. Therefore, I gather magic from the four corners of the Earth." This she had learned from studying her grandmother's books and journals. It was a mesmerizing and complex history that she found both confusing and received a measure of pride from it.

"Fascinating," she murmured, all ready thoroughly engaged in this new history of magic. She wished to learn more. "All right, we'll meet you later."

"Thanks," Willow smiled. "So, what were you thinking about?"

"It's Professor Snape, it doesn't matter what I do. He'll flunk me," he shrugged. The two headed towards the library, heads bowed in conversation.

"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't do that," Willow objected.

"You don't understand Professor Snape, do you?" he asked.

"What do you mean?

"He outright hates us Gryffindors," he opened the door and waited for her to go through.

"On the contrary, Mr. Weasley, I do not desire to waste my emotions on your house. To hate requires that I care enough to engage myself in the first place," he coldly stated. "I refrain from doing so merely because there are more important things to stir my passions."

"Professor!" Ron gasped, stepping back.

"I am surprised that you know where the library is. It isn't your usual haunt, is it?" Grasping his arm, he nodded stiffly in their direction. "I shall leave you to it. Remember to replace everything that you borrow to its proper location. You are not the only students to use this room."

"Are you all right?"

He stopped at the door and glanced at her. "I am as well as can be expected under the circumstances we find ourselves embroiled in, Miss. Rosenberg."

"That man is scary," Ron muttered when the dark haired professor had disappeared.

"Never mind about him, what do you want to do?"

"May be we could write a report about the Hellmouth. After all, we are here."

"Oh, that's a good laugh. Weasley actually had a creative idea." Turning, they saw Draco Malfoy standing in the door, a speculative look on his face. "Love the hair, Willow. When did you decide to quit emulating Weasley and turn to me?"

Shaking her head, her hand rose and silenced Ron. "What do you want, Draco?"

"A book," he said. "Why else would I bestir myself to willingly share a room with a _Weasley_?"

"Then get one and stop disturbing us." Turning away from the aristocratic Slytherin, she nodded towards the shelves. "If we're going to do the Hellmouth, we'll need to do a lot of work. I'm pretty sure we can talk to Giles. As long as we don't try to get information about the Watcher's Council or the slayer, we should be fine."

"Why would those two subjects be off limits? They have something to do with the Hellmouth."

"Yes, but she's not supposed to exist. And we aren't supposed to know that she does," she replied ironically.

"That's stupid," Ron stated.

"Well, who can explain centuries old logic to a bunch of people who refuse to see that the world's changing?" she asked, a twisted smile on her lips. "So, where do we start?"

"This may be a long shot, but at the beginning?"

"Cute," she made a face at him.

"Me mum always thought so," he replied with a grin.

Though somewhat resentful of her dismissive attitude, Draco remained quiet and selected a book, curling up on one of the chairs to read. Their topic interested him, so he pulled out one of the ones he'd seen his Head of House reading. The trio read in a silence only occasionally broken by a few whispered words and suggestions.

After listening to the two engage in a little argument over some point in their sources, the Slytherin rose and walked over to them. Placing the book down in front of them, he pointed out a couple of passages. "You might find this to be of some aid."

Ron looked at it, then him skeptically. "What's it to you?"

"I'm just trying to offer some help like Professor Lupin has counseled us," he said, exasperated. "But if you don't want any help, fine."

"No. Thank you," he grudgingly said, skimming the indicated section.

"You are welcome."

"Who are you working with?" Willow curiously asked.

"Myself," he answered. "I don't need any help."

"May be not, but would you like to join us?" She ignored Ron's horrified look.

Curling his lip up in a sneer, he agreed. "If only because it annoys Weasley so much."

"Kind of you," she murmured, directing his eyes back to the books in front of them. "Sit down and read. We don't have an infinite amount of time to do this work."

UPSTAIRS:

"Amy, may I call you that?" she asked, once the two were out of earshot.

"Only if I can call you Hermione," she said.

Nodding, she hesitated before deciding to go ahead and ask. "What happened to Willow's hair?"

"You'd have to ask her that," Amy informed her bluntly. "It isn't my story to tell. Besides, I didn't really understand any of the explanation she gave."

"Willow seems to be quite precise when she speaks," Hermione began.

"Unless she's nervous, then she tends to babble." The statement was affectionate though. "And I do mean babble, brooks have nothing on that girl when she really gets going. Anyway, you want to know, just ask her."

"Ask? I'm rather afraid of what she'd do if I did," she quietly said.

"Why?"

"She rather attacked Blaise for making a crack about her lack of understanding," Hermione said.

Amy was a bit startled, staring at the witch in shock. "Willow attacked someone? Really? When?"

"After she came to stay here, it was all rather surreal now that I think about it."

"Ah, her fear made her lash out. Understandable. But surely she has become more comfortable with you and you've gotten to know her better. She has been among you for a while," she pointed out.

"True. But she doesn't really interact with any of us outside of lessons."

"Yes, lessons. What exactly do you learn here?"

"Ah, ah. You answer my question first," she maintained. "Hello, Lavender." Although her voice was friendly, she was upset that the girl had appeared. It interrupted the moment and she knew that it would not be regained.

"Hermione," the girl greeted. "Who's this?"

"Amy," she told her. "I'm showing her about."

"Pleasure, I'm on my way to the kitchen. Want to come?"

"Hi. Hermione?" It was an almost desperate plea for the other girl to say yes, though it was unspoken. Amy didn't want to talk about Willow and what happened to her without her friend's permission. After all, it wasn't her story to share.

"I think I should introduce you to a few others in case we get separated," she replied. But that wouldn't stop her from trying.

"Cool. I can wait," Lavender smiled. "Where to?"

Giving in with a shrug, Hermione led the way to their room. "How about with our roommates? If Amy visits Willow again, they'll need to be more familiar with her than the others."

"Excellent idea," the Gryffindor said. "Let's go."

OUTSIDE Right after Willow and Amy went in:

"Is she for real?"

Buffy nodded. "Willow is definitely real. So, what's the sitch with the wolf?"

"Wolf?" he tried to play dumb, though he had heard enough to know that something was up with the girl before him.

"Professor Lupin? Werewolf? I may be blonde, but I'm no dummy."

"What?" he stared at her, stupefied by her calm attitude.

"For those of you who weren't paying attention, I'm Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer." She introduced herself with a flourish that rivaled his.

"The slayer is a myth," he stated.

"So are wands and wizards," she retorted. "Are you saying that you don't exist?"

"I've been trying to convince myself for years that he doesn't. Regrettably, he won't play along with me," Severus drawled. "He continues to show up and annoy me, just like he did in school."

"Ah, Severus, you'd miss me if I wasn't around." His arm encircled the thin shoulders companionably and squeezed his shoulder.

"Like I would a tooth ache," he retorted, tossing off the arm and swiftly walking into the house. All the while thinking that he wished he could say what he really meant. But he couldn't. He had to act like a reasonable gentleman. The promise had been made and he had meant it. There really wasn't anything he wouldn't do for the headmaster.

Harry followed him with a shrug, smiling at Remus who was waiting by the door. "Professor."

"Harry," he greeted cheerfully. "What kept you?"

"They were talking," he said.

"About?" Remus encouraged.

"Something I'm sure Professor Snape would say doesn't concern me."

"And you?" Though it really wasn't any of his business, there was something in his voice that told him he should ask for more information. After all, Harry had a habit of getting involved in things that usually got him into trouble-even if he always came out of it relatively all right.

"Think he's only half right," he replied with a shrug.

Remus laughed. "Why's that?"

End, Part 8.


	9. So, Now What?

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Harry thought for a moment, trying to order his thoughts so that he could best answer Remus. After all, he wasn't sure about the situation and didn't want to mislead anyone. No matter what Snape thought about his motives. "When I went in, they were in a meeting with what I guess was another watcher and his slayer. His name was Mr. Zabuto. At least, that's how Professor Snape addressed him. I don't know who the slayer was, but she seemed to be very businesslike, though she had a vulnerability about her that Buffy lacks. Mr. Zabuto was telling them about Trelawney's grandmother and her prophecy."

"Professor, Harry," Remus corrected, though he agreed with Harry's point. It was hard to respect anything Trelawney did, even if she had made a few correct predictions in her time.

"What?" he asked, startled by the interruption. His head cocked to the side, studying Remus' curiously, all to aware of the professor's opinion about her.

Remus slightly smiled. "You should address her as Professor Trelawney, even though you don't respect her. She is still one of your teachers."

"All right," he reluctantly agreed with him. "_Professor_ Trelawney's grandmother," he spoke with exaggerated emphasis on the title.

"That'll do, Harry," he warned, stifling a chuckle.

"Well, her grandmother, Cassandra Trelawney, gave some prophecy about Voldemort joining forces with the mayor of Sunnydale in his bid for world domination. Apparently, the mayor has access to demons that ol' Voldie doesn't."

"Mr. Potter," Severus drawled from an open doorway. "While you see no reason to fear the Dark Lord like the rest of us mere mortals, kindly refrain from mocking him. He is an evil man who, while he does not entirely deserve your respect, is worthy of your watchful eye. If you continue to mock his name, you run the risk of underestimating him, as he does you."

It was a clear warning. One Harry knew he should take to heart. But, having faced the Dark Lord before, found that he couldn't quite take seriously. "Yes, sir."

"Severus, are you going somewhere?" Remus asked, taking in the robe slung over his arm. It looked disturbingly familiar.

He nodded gravely, knowing that he would not have to say where he would be. There was no question in anyone's mind about where he going. "I shall return as soon as I can. Take care, Mr. Potter."

"But you can't go!" Harry exclaimed.

An eyebrow rose questioningly and he tilted his head curiously. "I can't?" he challengingly asked, aware of Lupin's knowing look.

"Voldemort knows that you were with us. That you protected us from him," he lamely said.

"Yes," he willingly agreed. "And if I don't go when I am called, he will kill me."

"How do you know he doesn't want to kill you now?" he challenged.

"Because I am more valuable to him alive, than dead."

"You don't know that for sure," he bitterly said.

"Ah, that's where you are wrong, Mr. Potter. I am quite aware of my position with Voldemort. As long as I am one of the highest-ranking potions master in the world and hold a position in Hogwarts, I am priceless to him. There are things that even he cannot do. If I show even the slightest hint of defection to him or the others, he will have me disposed of."

Here Harry smugly smiled, knowing he had the professor. "But you already have. You saved my life."

"What?"

"Not now, Lupin," Severus snapped at him. The pain in his arm was growing by the minute. "If you will recall that day, I _attempted_ to save you and was unsuccessful. It was Miss. Granger who actually saved your life when she distracted Professor Quirrell, albeit by setting my robes on fires. I did nothing more than help your broom stay in the air."

"Still, you went against him." Harry felt that his argument was weakening by the moment but he couldn't let it go, just couldn't.

"To try to repay a debt owned, something that Voldemort understands only all to well. I owe my life to your father," he sneered at the mention of the elder Potter. "With that debt over my head, I cannot truly belong to him. And he does not take kindly to that fact. He hates it that his servant is not entirely own. Thus he indulges my many attempts to keep you safe, though he is ever watchful."

"What about your promise to Headmaster Dumbledore?" he threw out as a last ditch attempt to talk him out of this madness.

"I shall be back before any more field trips commence, so you will not be confined to the house for very long. You needn't fear for your precious freedom, Mr. Potter," he scathingly replied.

"Why can't you understand that it's your _life_ I'm concerned about?" he exploded.

Shaking his head marginally, Severus couldn't quite prevent the feeling of warmth that filled him at the words. It was nice to hear that someone other than Dumbledore had a care for what happened to him. "Mr. Potter," he gently said-well, gently for him. Remus' eyebrows rose in surprise hearing the tone he used. He knew he'd have to talk to the werewolf later. "As I have said, I am far too essential to his plans for him to get rid of me. No one with any amount of intelligence kills the goose that lays golden eggs while it still gives. And while he is many things-crazily obsessed with you-stupid is not one of them."

Harry sighed, defeated at last. The professor would never yield for him alone. Then he brightened, thinking of something that he knew was important to the professor. Far more important. "What of your Slytherins? They need you."

This silenced Severus, but only for a moment. It was true. He was all his Slytherins really had. No one really knew them or trusted them. "I have seen to their care, Mr. Potter. I cannot leave them in a world where the Dark Lord holds the power. As long as I have the ability to gain this information, then I will do all that I can. Remus, I trust them to you."

It was the use of his first name that alerted Remus to the severity of the situation. "You don't think you're going to come out of this alive?" he spoke in Greek to protect Harry from the truth.

Severus was completely calm as he spoke to him, ignoring Harry's wounded look. "In all likelihood, I shall survive this night and any to come after it. Any further than that, I cannot say."

"The potion!" Harry called after Severus.

"Is on my desk," he called back. Stopping, he turned and faced the two of them once again. "If I am not back in the afternoon, convey my regrets to Mr. Osborne."

"Oz?" Remus asked in confusion.

"He wished to see me in the afternoon," he explained. Before another word was exchanged, he apparated away.

Harry watched the empty space in the doorway, his arms wrapped around his waist, trying to comfort himself. "Why must he be so stubborn?"

"Harry, Severus is what he is."

"He could die!"

"Yes, so could you," he gently reminded him. "But Severus Snape has always been compelled by reasons of honor and shame that not many could understand. In his own, rather masochistic way, it is his way of seeking redemption-for himself and for his Slytherins."

"But do they even care?" Harry asked softly.

Unnoticed until now, Blaise unfurled herself from the shadows and approached them. "We do. More than you could ever imagine, Potter."

"How long have you been there?" Remus asked, wondering why he hadn't picked up on the Slytherins' presence.

"Long enough," she shrugged. "Do not judge Slytherins based solely on what you have heard, Potter, it does not become you to be narrow minded. There is much truth in the stories, but much of it is also fabrication based upon suspicions towards Slytherin himself. I bid you a good-night."

"I hate it when they do that," Harry muttered, watching as she seemed to melt away.

"And they know it," the professor observed. "I think that's one of the reasons that they do it."

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"So, Buffy, how can I help you?" Sirius asked, vaguely troubled by Harry's attitude towards Snape but not wanting to think about it at that moment. At the moment, there was nothing he could say or do that would change it. Something about the way he was acting tingled a memory in his mind, one that he _really_ didn't want to think about. Still, he had a feeling he was going to be forced to face it sooner or later.

Right now, the presence of the Slayer was a bit more important anyway-especially if Remus were to act in recognition of the superior hunter. He was no fool. He knew exactly what Snape was fearing, though he really didn't know how he was supposed to explain something he barely understood. He didn't have the slightest clue about how to explain it to her.

"Professor Snape made mention something about Professor Lupin and his attitude towards me. But I'm not sure I understand. Oz has never acted any differently towards me. His behavior has always been the same, even on the nights leading up to the full moon." They started to walk away from the house so as not to disrupt the students inside.

"That is because he is a non-magical werewolf," he explained.

"Yeah, Snape mentioned something about that being a big difference. He also mentioned something about Professor Lupin's senses being stronger. But what does that _mean_?"

"Oy, no one really understands it."

Crossing her arms over chest, she stared at him. "Then why bring it up?"

Running frustrated hands through his hair, Sirius growled. "I don't know. Most likely Severus thought you should be aware that Remus might exhibit some behavior that might make you uncomfortable."

"You know, he's not here. You can stop calling him that."

"But I have to practice saying the impossible git's name, Buffy."

She coolly looked at him. "I would prefer it if you'd call me Miss. Summers."

"But that's so unfriendly," he protested.

"I feel anything but friendly when dealing with a potential danger, Mr. Black. If you do not like it, that is your problem."

He was about to retort when she sensed something and her head whipped towards the door. A flash appeared, then quickly faded away. "What was that?"

"Apparation," he replied. At her questioning look, he gladly elaborated it, wanting to get in her good graces. He had a feeling that they would be spending some time together and the last thing he wanted was to have to hide all the time. "It's like teleportation. Wizards can apparate from one location to another when necessary. It is somewhat safer than using a broomstick, though there is the danger of splinching of one isn't properly prepared."

"I see," she said, filing the reference about broomsticks away for later. Giles would know what this guy was talking about-she'd also have to tell him that Black was there and was, presumably, innocent of any crime. "So, about Professor Lupin. Is there someway I should act about him to avoid anything that would prove to be uncomfortable for either of us to deal with once the cycle of the full moon has passed?"

"Uhm," he thought about it. "Remus will see you as the dominant hunter. All I can think of is that you not take advantage of that."

"Really not going to be a problem, I'm not into kink," she muttered. "Get down!" Without waiting for him to do so, she pushed him down and leap-frogged over him. Her leg went out and connected with the vampire that had tried to sneak up on them.

Using moves perfected over years of fighting on the Hellmouth, she brought him to his knees and then swiftly staked him.

Sirius stared at her, mouth open in shock.

Now, he was wary of the girl. If nothing else, this had proven to him how truthful she had been. How honest they all had been with him.

The slayer was no myth.

"Does this happen often?" he asked, his voice sounding very old in his ears.

Brushing off her hands, she nodded briskly. "Of course. This _is_ the Hellmouth, not the Bahamas. I'm going to pop in and see Willow. Thanks for the not help," she commented before leaving.

"Well," he muttered. "It isn't as if I was prepared for a slayer and her questionable power over my friend, is it? Snape, I really hate you."

In the distance he could almost hear the mocking laughter. The snide and cold reply that was so typical of the Slytherin, _no more than I hate you, Black. If such a thing is possible when one considers the source_.

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A few minutes after he joined them, Draco got up. "I'm going to get a snack. Want anything?" he offered, feeling that he should.

Ron thought for a moment, then looked at the research they had left to do. "I'll get them. You seem to know more about this stuff than I do."

Willow rose, not wanting to shoulder the burden of the work herself. Or let either of them get away with not helping. Plus, she really wanted to stretch her legs. "Let's all go. That way, no one can accuse anyone of anything."

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"Miss. Summers," Remus welcomed her politely. Inside, he shivered a little with fear at the sight of the blonde slayer standing so close to him. Logically, he knew that it was the moon's cycle that made more of her appearance than was necessary. That she meant him no harm and understood like no one else the true nature of his being.

He couldn't stop it from happening all the same. This young woman could kill him faster than a fully trained wizard. The genetic memory of the werewolf remembered all to well the part of slayers in the slow deterioration of werewolves in the world.

The Slayer was one of the only predators they feared-and revered.

Feared because they had the power to stop them. Revered for it was the slayer who set them free of the curse that left them strangers in their own bodies. Slaves to the moon's cycles and took nothing of them for a trophy. They allowed them to rest in peace.

She noticed that, although he looked the same, there was a guarded air about him. "Professor," she returned the greeting, being as careful as she could. It was hard because she didn't understand how to be anything but what she was-she couldn't even resort to her typical, snide mocking attitude towards those in positions of power. "Do you know where Willow is?"

"I believe that she and Ron Weasley are in the library working on a project," he replied. "Would you like me to get her?"

"Nah," she waved off the offer. "Thanks anyway, I'll see her later. Uhm, Harry said there was some stuff you wanted to know about the vampires in the area."

"Yes," he slowly answered her. "If it isn't too much trouble, may I ask you a few questions about the demons you've come across? And those that you've killed? I'm afraid that our books aren't accurate, they say that the Master is still living. Though I hear from Harry that that is not true."

Smiling, though wary of talking about such things, she nodded. Giles had wanted her to cooperate with them, for Willow's sake if not their own. "He's correct. I pounded him into pemmican at the start of my junior year."

"Junior year?" he repeated, confused by the term.

"I guess you would call it your eleventh year of school?" she guessed, trying to remember what she'd been told by Harry on their way to the mansion.

"Oh, I see," he nodded.

Still trying to be careful in how they interacted, she refrained from making a quip. Though it didn't stop her from thinking one, _far ahead of me on that one, professor, because I have no clue to what is going on_. "Not a problem. Where do you want to talk?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her where she'd be most comfortable. Buffy could see the struggle on his face before the professor won over the wolf. "The study would be best. I don't think that anyone is in there."

"Lead the way," she gestured.

Again, there was that odd struggle before they walked to one of the doors and entered.

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"There you are, Snape. The Dark Lord has been wondering about your lack of appearances when he has summoned you to his meetings."

"Lucius," he coolly greeted. "He has? Or you have?"

That stopped his movements to the door and he stared at Severus, puzzled. "What are you up to?"

"I? I am up to nothing," he smoothly denied. "I believe that it is _you_ who is often the conspirator in any of our schemes. I am nothing more than an accomplice."

"You are more than that," Lucius muttered darkly. "I'm just not sure what."

The clearing of a throat silenced the potions master. "Severus. Lucius. Please, come in. I have much to discuss with you both, though I am sure that your conversation is more interesting than anything _I_ might have to say. I am, after all, only your Lord and Master," Voldemort drawled, his wand held lazily in his hand, as though it was of no consequence. "Why don't you share with us your thoughts?"

Bowing low before him, Severus smoothly made his apologies. It was, after all, expected of him. In his mind, he locked away all his memories-especially those in regards to Harry Potter. "Forgive me, my lord, for my negligence. Due to my spending time with the Gryffindors, the interesting conversation of a Slytherin drew my attention. I humbly beg your pardon for my error, though I know that I don't deserve it. And will suffer more having gained it."

"Pretty words," Voldemort mused softly, greatly amused by his words. There was a reason he tolerated Snape's subversive actions after all-and not all of it had to do with the stupid, interfering life debt owed to that one dead annoyance James Potter. Unfortunately, he'd been to quick to kill that man. Still, he hadn't quite lost Snape.

Plus, no one apologized to him quite like Severus Snape. The man was creative without going to far overboard into the realm of sheer idiocy. "But I shall forgive you both, though I am quite aware that your words are empty, Severus. Do not let such a thing happen again."

"Of course not," he waited for his dismissal, knowing that it wouldn't happen for a while.

"Remind me once again, Severus. What is the purpose of this trip?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore believes that it is long overdue that the Slytherins and Gryffindors learn to live peaceably together. That it is far past time to put aside old grudges and see the person beyond the house," he sneered on the words. There was no doubting his feelings that the idea was completely crazy. "So, he asked that I accompany Professor Lupin on this trip, to show that I bear no ill will towards the creature."

"Creature?"

"Werewolf, my lord," he replied. Glancing over to the side quickly, revealed one Peter Pettigrew, his eyes wide with fear. Inwardly, he smirked but his face showed none of that. "I thought that your most faithful would have told you that. They were friends at school," he idly pointed out, full well knowing that Pettigrew would be severely punished for having neglected to tell Voldemort about Lupin years ago. _Really_, he thought, _there was no excuse for the man's neglect_.

"Yes, I will have a word with him later. What of the redhead you were escorting around Diagon Alley?" he asked, somewhat idly.

Severus was far from fooled by it, though his answer sounded like he did not sense another reason behind his question. "An American witch, my lord, a Willow Rosenberg."

"And her bloodline?"

"None existent in our world," he replied calmly. This, at least, was the full and complete truth. Her power may have strong roots in Europe somewhere, but it was not in the English branch of the wizarding world. "I wanted to have the most accurate sources before I made any conclusive statements regarding her. Therefore, I introduced her to Dumbledore and Flitwick. They have found no significant connections."

"Any insignificant ones?" the blood red eyes narrowed and focused on him intently.

Shielding his face with his hair momentarily, he answered as nonchalantly as possible. His eyes stared straight into Voldemort's own, "Only if you are dense enough to count the rather chary tie to the rumored daughter of Merlyn as one."

Silence descended upon the room as everyone's heart stopped beating. That statement could be seen as incendiary, for it implied that the Dark Lord was nothing more than a gossipmonger. That he listened to rumors to come up with his facts.

A hiss escaped him and he stared at Severus. "Were it not for the fact that I know you are not stupid, I would have you killed for such a remark. Nevertheless, I cannot let such a comment go unpunished. You will stay behind and I will deal with you. Myself."

"Yes, my lord."

"Now, Lucius, you were able to arrange for your son to come visit me. Correct?"

"It had slipped my mind, my lord," the blonde had to admit.

"You disappoint me. It appears that I have not one, but two delinquents to deal with. Get out of my sight until I summon you."

Keeping care to not rise to high, they moved to the back of the room. For once, Severus felt a brief flash of pity for the older wizard. Lucius Malfoy had found himself in a most untenable position being caught between the Dark Lord and his wife.

He'd take the punishments the Dark Lord would mete out any day than anything Narcissa Black Malfoy would do. The woman was far colder-and far more powerful in her rage-than Voldemort could be.

"I'll see to it that Draco is to visit you for some reason," he murmured to Lucius, leaning in so they wouldn't be overheard. To talk over the Dark Lord's speaking was an offense punishable by an eternal torture that made you wish for death-that was denied. "An errand of some kind which will necessitate his spending the night. I'm always in need of potions ingredients of some kind or other."

Malfoy nodded, not bothering to thank him. He did not see the point. Severus owed it to him to help him out. The potions master owed it to them all.

Besides, he had other things to worry about, like Narcissa. She was going to kill him.

End, Part 9

_Author's Note: Blaise is a girl even though it has been confirmed that Blaise is a male. I didn't want to create a character who may become a larger character in the story. I don't need an MS._


	10. Fare Thee Well, Dearest Friend

_Author's Thanks: Moony'sMate, thanks. I wasn't sure anyone was still reading it, that's why its not being updated so often. Glad you're enjoying it._

656

When Willow, Ron, and Draco entered the kitchen, they were surprised to see Lavender, Hermione, and Amy there. The three girls were standing by the mixer, putting in chocolate chips. Greeting them, they walked to the fridge and opened the door, shifting things around curiously.

"Hey," Lavender smiled. She looked uncertainly at Draco, obviously wondering what he was doing with them. "Love the hair, Willow. How did you convince Professor Snape to allow you to do that? He certainly doesn't let us do such things."

"Well, I didn't actually ask him," she started to say, twiddling her fingers nervously.

"You're kidding?" Lavender's eyes got very wide in her face. "You just went out and had your hair done like that? Was he very angry?"

Willow winced, remembering the whole conversation. "You…could say that."

Amy wondered what was going on and made a mental note to ask Willow later about it. While listening to them absently, she turned off the mixer. _How on earth_, she wondered, _had they conned her into making cookies with/for them_?

"Girl, you've got guts going up against Snape like that. I envy you," she sighed. "I've always wanted to do something radical but never had the nerve. Did it hurt?"

"Why would it hurt?"

"Because it looks so extreme," she answered, now puzzled. "I mean, it's your whole head."

"Oh, that," Willow shrugged. "Then in that case, no. In fact, it was so painless and natural, I didn't even notice it happening." _And wasn't that a truth_, she thought wryly.

"Are you going to keep it?" Hermione asked.

Shaking her head, she grabbed a spoon and reached into the bowl, scooping up some cookie dough. "I doubt it. I mean, while the look works for some, it just makes me look washed out." Putting it in her mouth, she savored the taste.

"Do I detect a hint of criticism about my own looks?"

Turning around, they saw Draco standing behind them. Though his face was mostly full of his usual haughtiness, there was a hint of hurt in his eyes.

"No," Willow quickly said, flushing slightly. She couldn't believe that she had been so careless as to forget he was in the room. Honestly, she sometimes feared she was becoming self-centered. "It works for you. You were born for the look."

"I suppose not everyone can carry off the look of a Malfoy," he said.

"Not everyone wants to," Ron muttered darkly.

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, hard. "Want some?"

"Aren't we already having some?" Amy asked, confused, the empty spoon in her hand. Hermione's question seemed rather odd when they were already snacking on the dough.

"I meant after they have been cooked. Eating cookie dough is not only bad mannered but extremely unhealthy," she sniffed.

"Oh, dry up," Lavender said, scooping up some more onto her spoon and defiantly putting it in her mouth, making a show of eating and enjoying it. "Mmmmmm."

"Lavender!" Whatever else she was going to say was cut off when the Gryffindor girl shoved a full spoon into her mouth.

"Sorry," she said innocently amidst the laughter. "Were you going to say something?"

656

Kendra sat on the hotel bed, methodically pulling off her boots and placing them to the side. In the background, she could hear the shower running and feel the steam through the crack under the door easily. Her watcher had found the demon population of Sunnydale to be…varied and had the misfortune to have been doused by a slime demon.

Rising to her feet, almost wearily, she unpacked their meager belongings and put them away. Once that was done, she secured the room against a vampire attack. Then, sitting cross-legged on the ground, she did some deep breathing exercises. _After all, it wouldn't do to let their trip disrupt their established work schedule_, she thought ironically.

Tensions slipped away as she fell into what she knew, even if the feel of the Hellmouth still reached out to her, making her skin crawl. The desire to go out and _do_ something slowly bled out as she relaxed into what she knew.

"Don't forget your stretches," Mr. Zabuto said, exiting the bathroom. Glancing up at him slowly, she saw him critically studying her, a towel wrapped around his neck. "Did you hear me?" he asked, walking towards the bed. Reaching into his bag of personal items, he pulled something out and went back into the room.

"Yes, sir," she obediently murmured. Hands and feet braced against the ground, she pushed her body up. Once she had formed a bridge, she pushed up with her legs until her hands supported the full weight of her body.

Counting to a hundred, she let her legs fall forward till her toes touched the ground. Then, she stopped the motion of her body. Again, the count was one hundred before she kicked back up into a handstand.

After doing this exercise a few more times, she lay her body back down on the ground, breathing deeply. Rolling over to her right side, she did a few leg lifts-again, the count was a hundred. Once down, she did the left side. Standing, she picked up the Bible and bent forward.

Holding it in her hand, she raised them up and towards the ceiling. Then she slid the Bible over until it rested in both her hands. In that position, she breathed slowly and did her customary count to one hundred before lowering her arms. After a moment's lull, she repeated the exercise.

When her exercises were done, she sat down and wrote in her work journal of her actions and what they had done that day. She had almost finished when her watcher approached and held out his hand for it. Handing it over, she waited for him to give her his report on it, knowing that she wouldn't be allowed to go to the bathroom until he had dismissed.

"It is passable," he put it down. "I trust that your work output will increase in productivity and skill while we are here."

Not knowing what else to say, she remained silent, head bent.

"You may go clean yourself," he said, climbing into the bed. From the dresser drawer, he removed a cell phone and dialed a number. "Go on."

Nodding, she went into the bathroom and closed the door softly behind her. It bothered her that he had this phone in his possession. They had never needed such things back home. Why did the Council think he needed one now? And why would he accept it?

656

Buffy left the mansion and shook her head. Meeting up with Professor Lupin ranked up there in the category of the weirdest meetings she'd ever endured. Unlike those meetings, at least this teacher had no intention of putting her on display.

Or killing her, which is what she feared the Watcher's Council was going to attempt to do. She was by far the most successful slayer the world had seen. Of course, that could be a bit of arrogance talking. But she had saved the world several times already. So, she was just being honest in her assessment of her job.

And it irked her that the council was bent out of shape because they bent the rules a little.

Thinking of her friends and their continuous involvement, she smirked, letting out a laugh. Okay, so they broke their rules a lot. And they were definitely repeat offenders.

Well, if the rules made sense, she'd follow them with little argument. May be.

"Slayer," a voice hissed.

The stake was out and in the heart before any other message could be exchanged. Shaking her head at the very fact that they never seemed to change their opening lines. It was like they thought she didn't know who she was. She started home, slowing down when she saw Giles' car. "What's up?"

"Your mother called, she sounded upset."

"Uh-oh," she opened the door and got in, fastening the seat belt. "I told her that I was going to be studying with Will tonight, but forgot to mention that she's not staying at her home. Mom probably tried to call."

Giles was silent for a moment, debating about what to say. And how to say it, before he replied as gently as he could with such blunt news. "I think it is worse than that, Buffy. The Council stopped by and talked to her. They may have informed her as to the true nature of your nightly outings."

Her eyes widened and her breath came in gasps. "She knows?" It was the only thing she could think of for why they'd stop by and see her mom. But what could they hope to gain?

"I believe that that is a distinct possibility," he said.

"What am I going to say to her?"

"As to that," he started.

"I've got to talk to Willow," she said, biting her lip. "She'll know what to do. Giles, stop the car."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Buffy, I will take you to the mansion, stop panicking. But you should speak to your mother first. This may be nothing."

"Nothing?" she practically shrieked. "Giles, the Council told my mom that I'm the Slayer. How is that not nothing?"

"We don't even know that they have," he replied.

"You said that they did," she accused. Her finger shaking at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I was going for the worst case scenario," he informed her. "But you know the Council as well as I do, they wouldn't go against all their long-held beliefs unless there was a good reason."

"But to tell my _mother_," she practically whined.

"Don't whine," he scolded absently, finally finding a place to turn around so that he could take her to the mansion. It wasn't so much her words but the tone in it that he tuned out.

She continued as if he hadn't interrupted her. "If anything was wrong, they'd tell you. Or Mr. Zabuto, you both are watchers with your own slayers. Telling you doesn't break their rules. What if they told my mom out of spite? What if they told her so that she would stop me? I mean, with Kendra and her watcher already here, they've got the power back in their hands. Oh, I think I'm going to be sick."

"May be you should try breathing," he dryly suggested. "And leave the babbling to Willow."

"I wasn't babbling," she denied.

"Close enough," he muttered. "Buffy, we don't know what is going on. I shall talk to your mother while you are with Willow. Perhaps you should stay the night, don't you wear the same size as Willow?"

"For the most part," she shrugged. Both breathed a sigh of relief as they pulled up at the house. "I'm sorry for being such a pain, Giles."

He refrained from telling her he was used to it from her. "Don't worry about it, Buffy. You've just had a tremendous shock."

"Thanks." She impulsively hugged him. Opening the door, she ran up the path and knocked on the front door. Smiling at Remus, she turned and waved at Giles.

Driving off, he wondered if he'd done the right thing. Really, though, did he have any other choice under the circumstances? Buffy may be a smart girl, but she really didn't have much political savvy when it came to her mother.

Then again, neither did he.

Mrs. Summers was one of the smartest women he'd ever met, with the exception of Jenny Calendar, and she wouldn't be lied to easily. He sighed at the reminder of his old girlfriend, the wound inside still raw. She had left shortly after Angelus, never giving any of them a hint as to why. Or any that he would consider thinking about.

Shaking his head, he concentrated on driving. And figuring out what he was going to say to Joyce.

Seeing Amy walking along, he pulled over. "Would you like a ride home?" The witch climbed in, happy to be off the streets, and they drove off.

656

Buffy walked by, ignoring Remus' puzzled, half subservient look. "Willow?" she called out.

"Yes?" Willow looked down at her, waving Draco and Ron on up the stairs. "We'll continue this talk tomorrow."

"The Council is…yucky," she settled on the word.

"Yucky?" Willow repeated, as though she couldn't believe that Buffy had used the word when she was usually so much more…colorful with her insults.

"Yes, yucky," she repeated. "I almost said yicky, but with all the English people here, I didn't think I'd get away with it."

"Okay," she nodded gamely, still not quite sure what was going on. She had thought that Buffy had left earlier. If she had, what on earth had happened to bring her back to the mansion? "But yucky isn't actually a word I thought you'd use to describe them."

"So, I'm broadening my vocabulary. Got a problem with that?" she snapped.

"No, I'm all for broadening one's vocab," she held up her hands in surrender. "So, the council is being yucky, as per their normal mode of operations. Although, I doubt that they actually have any other way of working. We've certainly never seen it if they have and it would be nice to know that they aren't all ignoramuses who don't know that sometimes changing old ways is the best way to survive in this new world of ours. What with the increases in technology and faster travel, it is only right that the old ways of handling things should be modified for efficacy. I mean, I'm sure their rules worked well once upon a time, back when the workings of the world were much smaller. But things have gotten bigger and quicker. This isn't the same world. Well, it is but it isn't because…"

"Willow?" Buffy interrupted.

"Huh?"

"Not the point."

"Right, sorry," she flushed. "What did they do now?"

"They told my mom that I'm the Slayer," she bluntly said.

"What?" Willow gasped, eyes wide.

"Well, that's worse case scenario," she shrugged. Perversely pleased by the reaction she got from her friend. "Giles told me mom called the library. She sounded mad."

"Didn't you tell her we where studying? That's always been our cover story," she said, chewing on her lower lip. "So your mom doesn't get suspicious. Well, more suspicious than she already is. I think it's a parent thing, kinda wish my parents worried about me like that."

"I did," she said defensively. "I just didn't tell her about your new number." The last bit was said in a smaller, more sheepish tone of voice. The fact that she had forgotten such an important detail embarrassed her.

"That's so not of the good." She wrapped an arm about Buffy's shoulders, squeezing it comfortingly.

"Then he told me that the Watcher's Council was at my house," she leaned into the touch. After a moment or two, they went to sit on the bottom step. "Hope you don't mind my dropping by, I just didn't know what else to do. My mom's going to kill me when I can't deny what the council said and tell her that I really am the Vampire Slayer."

"Ah, Buffy, you don't know that's what they told her."

"Well, what else could it be?"

"A scholarship?" she guessed.

Buffy pulled back, her eyes wide with disbelief. "A scholarship? Isn't that more your thing?"

"Right," she chewed her lip for a moment. "How about a proposal from some rich English Lord?"

"Through my mom?"

"He's conservative?" she tried, rubbing her back. "And he fell madly in love with you through Giles' glowing description of you?"

The slayer snorted at that, then laughed. "Will, you are priceless. Don't ever change."

Remus cleared his throat then. "Would you like to stay? Professor Snape will be away all night. He was called away to some emergency. In fact, he probably won't be back until sometime tomorrow morning, you could stay in his room."

"I'd appreciate that," she smiled at him. "Thank you."

"No problem," he mumbled and went up the stairs to change the sheets and wonder how he was going to tell the dark haired professor what he'd done. He could ill afford to stay up waiting for him, not when he had the students to watch. Nor could he get up early for the same reason.

They were hard enough to handle when he got a full night's sleep. He didn't know how Severus managed to do it year after year-especially once he started spying again. The stress of the children combined with facing Voldemort should've killed him long ago.

656

The sounds of him entering the room had slowly pushed its way through her sleep-clouded mind and she turned automatically towards him, one hand reaching out to him. "Lucius?" Narcissa sleepily asked, feeling the cold air enter the bed.

"Yes," he replied, slipping beneath the sheets. He released a sigh as the pressure on his body eased into the silken bed, soothing the aches the potion had not reached yet.

She scooted over and rested her head against his shoulder. "Bad night?" she asked, hearing the slight hiss escape him. Knowing that she must be resting against a bruise, she shifted until he relaxed. A suspicion filled her mind and she readied herself for the worst, though she knew this beating could easily have come from a raid.

But she was not naïve. She knew that this was the work of the Dark Lord himself. Lucius must have done something terrible indeed if Lord Voldemort had attacked him directly.

Lucius sighed, trying to get comfortable without further disturbing her. "The Dark Lord was most displeased with me. I forgot to do something that he asked me to weeks ago."

"It's about Draco," she flatly stated. A pain in the region of her heart started to ache and she let it, needing to focus on something beside what was happening right now. "He is angry because you did not bring him to the meetings. Or tell him about his invitation to join the Death Eaters."

A smart man would not deny it and Lucius had not gotten this far in life by being by stupid. "Yes. I told him that it had slipped my mind. I wanted to tell you before I did anything."

Narcissa closed her eyes, refusing to let the tears forming in them to fall. There would be no point in yielding to them when she had known this day was coming. But it was one thing to mentally know that it was happening. It was quite another thing to actually have to deal with it.

"I knew that you would chose the Dark Lord over me. Don't say anything else; there is no reason for your comforting lies to me. It is with him that your heart's total loyalty resides. Take Draco to the next meeting, I don't wish you to be further hurt for the promise you made me. Just don't come back into this bed for you will find no welcome here. You've made your choice, now I am making mine."

"Narcissa," he started.

"Don't," she interrupted. "I am still all that you need me to be. I'll not betray you. But I am a selfish woman; I will not be second in you life. I want all of you for me, save the love that rightfully belongs to our son. I want nothing of what you would give me now. I will accept nothing less, you knew well when you married me." With those words, she got out of the bed and walked out of the room.

Lucius closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of regret. If he had been any other man, he might have followed her. He might have tried to repair the damage his choice had wrought between them. He might have tried to get her back, for he did love her after a fashion.

Narcissa had been the one to bind his wounds, to help him put his shattered life back together. She had stood beside him in the worst of times, as well as the best of times. She had shown extreme loyalty to him and he had always appreciated that. On her word alone, he'd been exonerated for the crimes that many knew he was guilty of-but they couldn't prove anything against that stance of hers.

But he was Lucius Malfoy.

He had made his choice. All of his time, talent, and energies were the Dark Lord's. He had no further use of a wife, perfect though she had been for him. This was what he desired above all else and he would accept the cold, barren loneliness with grace. For it was what he wanted.

And if a few tears of loss escaped his eyes, he heeded them not.

End, Part 10.


	11. In Which Things Get Strange

654321

It was near dawn when Severus dragged his wrecked body into the mansion.

Rubbing his head, he stumbled down towards his potions lab. There was some, his thoughts trailed off for a moment as he frowned in concentration. Something was in there. He knew that there was…some thing that would ease the pain he was feeling, though he couldn't quite think about what it could possibly be.

"Here," someone shoved a glass into his hand and he glared at the bouncing form. "Oh, take that look off of your face and save it for another place and time. Neither of us has the patience nor the desire to go into it right now-and you know it, Professor. For once in your life, would you just do something for me without fighting about it?"

"Potter," he growled, recognizing the voice and downed the drink in one gulp, though he knew there was a reason he should probably hold back on tossing it back so quickly. He moaned, feeling the immediate rush of the potion to his worst spots, reminding him _exactly_ why he shouldn't have done what he just did.

The pain it brought back as it worked to heal him was unbelievable, yet he endured it as he knew he must. Pain was an old friend, one he knew well and trusted. It was lack of pain that he feared. To lack pain meant that something was amiss with his body. And finding out what it was would take time and energy. Two things that were of better use elsewhere.

Harry watched in concern, guiding him to the chair by the window. For the first time, he saw his nearly invincible professor vulnerable-and he didn't like the sight at all. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm not all right, you stupid boy. I have just experienced one of the worst nights I have ever had in all the many years that I've been doing this. A night that reminded me why I left those dunderheaded Neanderthals in the first place." He bit the words out, wincing a little in pain at the sound of his voice as he sat down slowly, relieved to be off of his feet at long last. "I walk into my lab, a place I have come to believe was sacrosanct, and find the third bane of my existence waiting for me-with a surprisingly competent potion for once."

"Third? I've gone down in your estimation," he cheekily joked, then became grim. "Look, I'm sorry about invading your privacy, Professor Snape. But I couldn't sleep. I rarely do when Voldemort has one of his special meetings." Harry noted, with a sense of shock, the shiver of fear that shook his teacher at the mention of Voldemort's name. But why? Snape had said his name before-many times.

"Why?" he idly asked, more for the sake of keeping the conversation off of him than any real interest in what the boy had to say. There were just some things that he didn't want the boy to know about, though he was pretty sure that was a futile hope. Besides, being an observant man about people, he could tell that Potter wanted to talk-and would no matter what he said. So, rather than waste energy trying to shut the boy up, he'd listen to his little speech and then send him on his way.

Harry's lips twisted into a mockery of a grin. "I get to attend."

"What?" Harry had his full attention then. He stared at him, startled and naked concern shone in his eyes for a brief moment. It was veiled quickly. But Harry would not quickly forget what he'd seen.

"Headmaster Dumbledore didn't tell you? Why…" he trailed off. "I'm not even going to pretend to be shocked, but I thought he would've told you after our experience with Professor Moody. Or rather, the false Professor Moody, don't you remember? I'm sure I mentioned it in your hearing; I had to have done that. I'm sure of it. Anyway, the headmaster figures that my scar binds me to Voldemort in some way. It was strengthened when he used my blood to regain his body."

Severus closed his eyes and leaned his head back, thinking over his words. "That would explain a few things," he mumbled.

"Sir?" he asked.

Pushing himself upright with effort, he walked off to the library. Having nothing better to do, Harry followed him, curious. Entering the room, he watched as his professor went from shelf to shelf, looking for something, almost furiously. "Here it is," he exclaimed triumphantly. "Read it and in a few days we shall put it into practice. First, I will have to pick up a few things. Where is that lazy excuse of a godfather?"

The sound of a loud yawn turned both heads towards the door. Sirius Black wandered in, stretching before he stopped, seeing their looks. "What?" he asked defensively, scratching his side. "Isn't this a bit early for you to be up, Harry?"

"Couldn't sleep," he replied, shrugging. The book he held was one he'd never seen Hermione read before-and she had studied almost every book in the school's library. Brought them to his and Ron's attention constantly too, he thought. "_Occlumency for Beginners_?" he read quietly, not sure that he should bring the book to Sirius' attention.

"Really?" he suspiciously asked, narrowing his eyes at the pair. For the moment, he was going to ignore the implications behind the book Harry now held in his hands. That was something he couldn't do a thing about at the moment. But if Snape was responsible for Harry's sleepless night, that was something he could attempt to fix. Something he would love to fix. "What did you do, Severus?"

"Severus?" Harry mouthed, still surprised that his godfather still was doing that.

Ignoring him for the moment, the teacher stared at Sirius coldly. "I did nothing to him, you suspicious mongrel. Your godson shares a mental link with the Dark Lord. I would suggest that you allow me to teach him occlumency. You should know that I will teach him anyway, the boy clearly needs it. I just thought that I would give you a chance to act the part of parent."

"Of course," Sirius waved that off. Then his eyes narrowed suspiciously, staring holes into the professor. As usual, Severus seemed totally unmoved by the look. "Naturally, you will allow him the right to have a pensieve."

"Obviously," Severus smoothly agreed. "Going through the mind of a Gryffindor is not my idea of a good time. Especially when that Gryffindor is the _Boy Who Lived_ and still one of my students."

"Hey!" the boy in question cried out. "That's not fair! It isn't like I asked for any of this!"

"Life is not fair. I thought you would've learned that by now," Severus icily retorted, swallowing back a yawn. Even now, he would not let his image slip, though he was beyond tired. "Mr. Potter, I would advise against telling your friends of your new lessons. They might not be so supportive of your extra-curricular activities when they discover what it is that you are learning."

"Why not?" he asked, looking uncertainly at the book he still held. "Is it part of the dark arts?" The question popped out before he could stop it, but he knew he needed to know what he was getting himself into. A part of him was aware that Snape would not teach him the Dark Arts without express permission by the headmaster. Even if he felt that it would prepare him for the coming battle, he would not do it without permission. Still, the warning set off danger signals in his mind.

Snape grimaced, easily reading his expression. Suppressing an angry reply, "Hardly, though it does have a certain hint of it. Headmaster Dumbledore practices a form of occlumency himself, as well as legilimency. But to learn occlumency also requires learning legilimency, which is a way to read minds-though it in no way actually reads minds. That ability is a myth of epic proportions that really should be laid to rest. Many powerful wizards and witches know this art."

"Is that how you know so much about what is going on?" he suspiciously asked.

"Not quite, Mr. Potter. There are ways of spying that does not include invading another's mind," he blandly replied. "Now, if you will both excuse me, there is much that I need to do before I can teach my classes." Black cloak swirling out behind him, he left the room.

"Harry, you don't have to learn from that git if you'd rather be taught by someone else," Sirius began, though he wasn't sure were he would find another teacher in occlumency as good as Snape was. Or one that was in Sunnydale, who would be able to overlook Snape's presence and what he did for the Order, who was also trustworthy enough to trust Harry's mental state to.

"Could you teach me?"

Sighing, he shook his head regretfully. "Unfortunately, legilimency and occlumency were arts that I preferred to avoid. My family…has a rather dark heritage and I wanted to avoid learning anything that smacked of that."

Though he didn't understand, Harry nodded and told him that it was all right.

"Are you sure?" Sirius asked, worried.

"Professor Snape and I have come to an agreement," he told him. "It isn't perfect but it works."

"Yes, I've noticed." He glowered darkly at the door the professor had gone in. "You have to promise me that you'll be careful, Harry. While Albus trusts that git, I don't."

"I am careful," he rolled his eyes.

"Harry, I want you to promise me, not tell me flippantly that you'll be careful." For the first time that the young man could recall, the mischievous, laughter filled eyes were bleak and full of undisguised worry. Worry that would not abate until he had made this promise and it really wasn't that big a deal-to his godfather at least.

"I promise," he finally said. Inside he wondered how he'd be able to keep that promise when danger seemed to stalk him from all sides. It wasn't like he went looking for it, trouble usually came to him and all to often in a disguise that he couldn't see through until it was almost to late.

Though not fully satisfied with the promise, there was nothing else he could do. Watching his godson yawn, he pointed to the stairs. "I'll talk to Remus, you get some sleep. Why were you up anyway? I mean, you don't really share a bond with Voldemort, do you?"

"I do," he said. "Professor Snape wasn't lying about that. But, Sirius, I thought you knew. I _told_ you about it. I wrote to you, I talked to you. Headmaster Dumbledore even told you. Weren't you listening to us?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighed. "I know. It's just that you hadn't said anything about it in a while that I thought that when he got back his body, that connection had gone away. So much for hoping for small favors."

Harry nodded, though he looked worriedly at his godfather. Although he had tried hard to hide it from him, he could clearly see that Sirius had a look of deep mistrust on his face. As though he feared what Harry would do now that another link had been exposed to the light.

It hurt.

"I'm going to go upstairs and see if I can get a little sleep. I'll see you later, all right?" The question was tentatively asked, as though Harry was afraid that things had changed between them. And would never be set to rights again.

Sirius only waved him off, ignoring both the question and the tone of voice.

Quietly, Harry left the room and stumbled up the stairs. His heart felt weighted down with a sickness that could only be dispelled in time. Time he wasn't sure he had anymore. With his head bowed, he counted the steps to his room. Some of the Slytherins pushed him aside as they went downstairs to get breakfast and work on their morning tasks.

He was almost grateful for their normal behavior.

"What?" someone drawled from right in front of him. "The Great Sirius Black couldn't handle his godson being less than James Potter perfect?"

The voice startled him and he stopped before he could crash into his teacher. "I thought you were going to bed," he told him stupidly. Studying his teacher, he could see no traces of the night's abuse anywhere.

"Now, why would I do such a thing?" he asked with perfect precision to his words. "I was merely going to clean myself up to face the day."

"But you need it, Professor. I was there, I know what happened to you," he protested hotly. His concern pushing every other thought from his mind. A part of him vaguely wondered if Snape was doing this deliberately to help him focus on something else.

"I believe, Mr. Potter, that you are the one who needs it. Get going," he shoved him none to gently towards the half empty room. Once he was sure that the young boy would not ram into the doorframe, he left the hall.

As Severus walked down the stairs, he felt Remus come up behind him. "When were you going to inform me that Miss. Summers had joined our little entourage?"

"I was going to try to catch you before you went into your room. I heard you arrive this morning," he admitted. "But Neville needed me to help him with something."

Instead of giving the expected derogatory reply about Longbottom and his inability to care for himself, he asked after Buffy's presence. There was no point in expressing an opinion everyone already knew about. "Why is she here?"

Remus walked beside him, breathing a little heavily in an attempt to keep pace. "She's not moving in, if that's what you're worried about. She just needed a place to stay for the night."

"Why is that, Lupin?" Severus noticed that Remus had trouble in keeping up. But he did not try to modify his steps in the least bit. It was not his custom to alter his movements for anyone other than the headmaster, even his students had to keep pace with him.

"She wished to have some words with Willow. The Watcher's Council went to her house. They may have informed her mother as to who and what she is. As she seemed to be to disturbed to walk home safely, I invited her to stay."

"In my room," Severus stated blandly, as though there was nothing wrong with his solution.

"Well, I could hardly leave the students alone while I escorted her to home, now could I?" he snapped irritably. This whole conversation seemed a rather pointless waste of words. It had happened and couldn't be undone, couldn't Severus just drop it?

"No, you couldn't do that," he mockingly agreed. "But you could have transfigured something into a bed for her in one of the dormitories, correct?"

"I didn't think of that," he admitted.

"Obviously," he dryly said. "Instead, you've opened her up to a world of speculation. And me to possible charges of misuse of my authority if anyone was to find out about this. Minister Fudge would love hearing about this, he's been trying to get rid of me for years. This could be just the thing he's looking for."

"All right, Severus. I apologize," he sighed. "I wasn't thinking clearly last night. There were things going on that clouded my mind."

"No, you weren't," he icily replied. "There's no way to alter what has been done. I can only modify it."

After a few moments of tense silence, Remus broke it. "What are you going to do?"

"I left her a note. I hope she has enough sense of self-preservation to follow the instructions I left for her. If she does, she will leave through the wardrobe, which will take her into one of the girls' bathrooms. Don't worry, I called it a closet for her. Since I am guessing the girls were as close to being asleep as possible when you made these arrangements, they hopefully won't notice the extra bed right beside Willow's. It will look as though she spent the night there."

"The girls will know the truth," Remus pointed out the flaw in his plan.

"I do not doubt that," he said coolly. "I do hope that they say nothing. If not for her sake, then for their own sakes, they would be pulled into this mess. Short of placing a spell on them, though, there is nothing I can do about it." As they entered the dinning room, he paused and shook his head. "If you will excuse me, I need to deal with something."

"Something? Severus, what?"

"Those girls are making a mess in the lavatory," he sighed, pinching his nose. "I knew that Americans were nothing but trouble. Merlyn, if Willow hadn't shown such proclivities for high magics, I never would've agreed to this."

"You say that about everyone," Remus commented, going to sit down at the table. He knew that he'd be of no true use if it was the Slayer causing the trouble. "Draco, please sit down. Professor Snape does not need your help."

"I never thought he did. My mother wrote me, she needs a reply immediately," Draco said, walking out of the room.

"Is everything all right?" he called after him.

Draco paused at that, almost surprised, though it didn't show on his face, and turned back. A strange look was in his eyes, fading away quickly into his usual haughty expression. "Mother gave no indication that there was trouble at home."

"That doesn't mean that something is not wrong," he replied evenly. "Sit back down, Draco. Your mother can wait until after you've eaten to write your reply."

He sniffed disdainfully, shrugging off the concern he felt coming from the professor. "I would much prefer to find out what mother wishes of me right away, Professor Lupin. Once I have done that, I shall see if I can stomach the thought of food. Excuse me, Weasley."

Knowing there was nothing else he could say, Remus nodded, "Very well, Draco. I shall make sure that something is kept warm for you."

Ron moved to the side, shocked by the politeness in the Slytherin's voice. Watching him go, he shrugged his shoulders at Hermione's look. She looked as puzzled as he felt. It was almost unheard of for Malfoy to be so considerate, even after all the time they'd spent in Sunnydale learning about cooperation and getting along.

It was almost worrisome.

656

Buffy stretched and yawned, opening her eyes to see that the room was about as dim as it had been the night before. Slowly rising, she found the note and read it. She frowned but nodded in resignation, his points were sensible. _If a little paranoid_, she mentally added.

Throwing open the closet, she stepped through without first checking to see if anyone was there and entered the bathroom. Luckily for the deception, the only person she saw in the room was Willow, with a bundle of clothes under her arm.

"Hey," she greeted her.

"Hey," she said, yawning. Putting her bathrobe on the hook and her clothes down on the stool. "How did you get in here?"

"First, is there anyone else in here?" When Willow shook her head, a little puzzled at the question, the slayer answered in a self-mocking tone. "Professor Snape's closet. He thinks that we could both get into major trouble if anyone found out I was in his room."

"He's right," Willow agreed. "When I went to London with them, I had to have a female chaperone to make sure that everything was above suspicion. The Wizarding World is very old-fashioned compared to our own."

"Really? Then why have we seen no female teachers around here?"

Willow shrugged, "I think its because there are more students around here. Not to mention, I've felt something blocking me from entering some of the rooms with the boys."

"WILLOW!"

"What?" she started to say. Then her words came back to her and she blushed as she realized the implications behind what she'd said. "Not like that, Buffy! Honestly, I just meant that there must be some spells keeping the males and females separate, to discourage anything between them."

"Still, the fact that you were trying anything," she smirked as she let the suggestion trail off.

"BUFFY!" she shrieked. "I wasn't trying anything. It was Draco, Ron, and I…"

"Oh, a threesome. Willow, you devil. I wouldn't have thought you were the type. Should've known you would be," she paused, finishing solemnly, "it's always the quiet ones."

Reaching out her hand, she grabbed the showerhead and turned in on as cold as it would go. "Ah, go on and soak your head, Slayer."

She shrieked and wrestled it away from her friend, spraying her. "Why don't you? You're the one with the dirty mind."

Water went everywhere, soaking them through their sleeping clothes. It dripped down the walls and knocked soap dispensers to the ground. One of the soap bottles broke and the thick, green soap inside it sprayed the wall it landed beside and the pipes underneath the sink.

"What is going on in here?" Severus coolly asked from the doorway. Buffy whirled and the water flew in his direction. A hand went up and stopped it in mid air. "Miss. Summers, kindly watch what you are doing with that thing."

"Sorry," she dropped it to the ground.

Severus said nothing for a moment, just looked around at the room. "Clean up this…mess," he finally said. The professor did not bother to ask again for an explanation, he just wasn't interested. Waving his hand, the frozen water dissipated. "I shall give Mr. Giles a call. I'm guessing that he will have some extra clothes for you to wear."

"Yes, sir." The two bent over and began to pick up the mess.

"And Willow?"

She looked up at him, not bothering to look down at the soapy mess in her hands. The feel of it was enough to slightly turn her stomach. "Yes?"

"Do not resort to using your magic," he warned. "Your magic may have started to return but you should not take advantage of it. As much as I would love to act like I trust you, I shall be monitoring the magical intake into this room."

"No, sir," she replied, upset. It hadn't occurred to her to use magic to clean up. After all, it hadn't been magic that had caused this mess in the first place. Still, it stung that he thought her capable of such duplicity.

"And Miss. Summers?"

Glancing up at him, she barely held in the resentment in her look. His words to Willow stung her and she wondered what he had in mind for her.

"This mess is not all Miss. Rosenberg's, you will not let her take full responsibility for cleaning it."

"Of course not, Professor Snape."

End, Part 11


	12. Well, Surprises Keep Coming, Don't They?

_Author's Note: This is important; this story is **not** HBP or DH compatible (or OotP, but you probably figured that out already). I may have heard a few spoilers but I will try not to let them sneak in because it would be just to confusing._

_Author's Thanks:  
__Village-Mystic: I'm glad that you are still enjoying. If you don't my asking, where does the writing get really confusing? (May be I can edit it and make it flow better.) Thank you. Glad you liked that, I think Will would treat them as equals. Pretty sure it's a coincidence, may change, though. I'm not sure there will be any pairing off in this story b/c I'm not sure it'll work, will that be all right?  
__Mooney's Mate: I'm glad. Hope you enjoy this part to. Things are actually picking up now-and taking shape._

777

Buffy and Willow walked the path up to the stairs at the front of Sunnydale High School, deep in discussion. Well, it was more like Buffy was in deep rant while Willow listened to her attentively. "Is he always that uptight? Professor Snape makes the Watcher's Council look like a bunch of wild party animals," she finished with a semi-flourish.

"Oh, he's not so bad once you get to know him. He's got a lot of things to be stressed over."

"Like what?"

"The students. Teaching me. The werewolves. I only pluralized that because Oz has asked for his help, something about a potion. The Hellmouth and the possible repercussions it may have on the students' health, both mental and physical. Sirius Black and keeping his secret safe," she paused a moment to look at her friend in inquiry. When Buffy shook her head, showing that the time wasn't right, she continued to list why Snape had reasons for his behavior. "There's this Voldemort guy. And the headmaster doesn't seem to mind laying quite a heavy burden upon his shoulders what with protecting me and Harry."

"Still, that doesn't give him the right to treat you the way he did. Honestly, one would think he'd never seen in a water fight before. And we can help protect you from this ol' Voldierots guy."

"I know that, Buffy. But, even though he is a wizard, he and his followers are human. There isn't much you can do about that. And, from all Professor Lupin has told me, I don't think he has been allowed to have any fun like that. Professor Snape has always been a recalcitrant person," she said. "Oh, look, library. And there's Giles. Wonder why he's staring at you like that."

"Probably to tell me what happened with mom," Buffy sighed. "What's the what, Giles?"

Instead of answering, he turned and walked into his office. Shrugging, Buffy and Willow followed, the later closing the door behind them. Following Buffy's lead, Willow remained standing until they had both been invited to sit down. "Shouldn't we wait for Xander?" The door opened and she glanced back, "Never mind."

"Oh, Will," he mocked sighed, "feel my pain at being so unappreciated." He sat down on the arm of her chair and looked at her expectantly.

Shaking her head, she smiled. "Oh, I can feel it-coming from your stomach."

"Where else?"

Giles cleared his throat, "We have a problem."

"Mom knows," Buffy said flatly, looking down at the floor for a moment. Her face was flushed with anger and embarrassment. After all they had done to save the world and do her duty, after all the secrets she had kept, to have it revealed like this was upsetting to her. This was a situation that she never thought she'd find herself in and she didn't like it. If her mom had discovered because Buffy had done something to save her life or someone else's in front of her, she could've accepted it.

But this way was just too anti-climactic.

"What?" Xander gaped at them, eyes wide. "When did this happen? Why?"

"Mrs. Summers doesn't know," Giles firmly said. "About Buffy being the Slayer that is. She does, however, know that Willow isn't living in her house any longer. That she has, in fact, been living in a house at the edge of town with three unmarried men-with no female to chaperone her. That Buffy has spent quite a few nights there as well."

"That's not true!" Willow objected, flushing angrily. "Not entirely, I mean, just last night."

"I know," Giles soothed before she got worked up. "I informed her that you were staying with a group of kids and their teachers from England. She wants to meet them-immediately. I rather imagine that she does not believe me that they are honorable people."

Willow groaned and hid her head in her arms for a moment, Xander sympathetically rested a hand on her shoulder and patted it. "Great," she mumbled. "Professor Snape is not going to be pleased with this and she can't meet Mr. Black or Professor Lupin, it's the full moon tonight. He's not exactly in the best of moods right now, what with the wolf being so close to the surface."

Closing his eyes, he nodded that he heard her. "It doesn't matter. Mrs. Summers could cause quite a lot of trouble for them and for you. You need to continue this training, especially if this Voldemort is after you with the mistaken idea that you are this Lily Potter."

"So, she wasn't mad at me?"

"Buffy, she is **furious** that you did not tell her about this. I do not believe that I have ever seen your mother so **livid**," he said, trying to be patient. "She is **enraged** that I put the two of you into such a position that compromises your reputation and her continued guardianship of you."

The Slayer winced at the pointed reminder. Ever since her father had gotten engaged to _that woman_-and, contrary to popular opinion, she had tried to like her, she really had. But something about her grated on her nerves. And she had been pushing her father to gain sole custody of her, to which he had agreed and was avidly pursuing at the moment. Citing several factors as justification for him to take her to live with him, using her previous behavior in school as one of them.

The situation at home was tense, made all the more so by the fact that neither of her parents listened to a word she said. Her heart twisted at the thought of going home to face it. "I don't suppose you convinced her that it just slipped my mind," she half-asked, wanting to know that the situation was being handled even as they spoke about it. She wasn't sure she knew what to do and didn't want to handle it if she didn't have. In fact, this was one of the few situations in which she was content to let Giles take care of things.

"Buffy," he leaned forward, staring at her, knowing what she was thinking. "It should not be my job to convince your mother of anything. She is your mother and your responsibility."

A knock on the door forestalled anything she had to say and he got up, "Yes?"

"Mr. Giles? I am Professor Minerva McGonagall," a cool, lightly accented voice announced. Turning around, they saw a woman standing in the doorway, looking slightly uncomfortable in the clothes she wore. It was quite obvious that they were not a style she wore very often. Her eyes were kind, though her face bore a stern look. She definitely had the look of a woman not to be trifled with. "I wish to see Miss. Rosenberg and was informed that I would find her here by the most disagreeable toad it has ever been my displeasure to meet."

"That would be Principal Snyder," he told her. Turning around, he looked questioningly at Willow, who shrugged that she didn't know who this woman was.

"Did I mention that I am the Assistant Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she stated calmly.

"Oh, please come in." Giles stepped aside, gesturing for her to pass him.

"Thank you," she nodded her head and glanced at the occupants. When her gaze fell upon the green-eyed girl, she knew that she had found her. "Miss. Rosenberg? Professor Snape asked me to teach you the process of Transfiguration. He has informed me that you have some basic understanding of what it is. That is not good enough for me, so you will start at the beginning, as all students do. Our lessons will begin directly after your final class for the day in this…_school_ of yours."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall." Willow supposed that she should be more upset by the way her life had been totally and completely taken over by these professors from a school she'd most likely never see in person. But with all the chaos that was stirring around her and the others, she just didn't feel the energy to worry over it. Not to mention, she was awfully curious about these things herself, so it was no hardship to surrender her life to those more qualified to deal with all she was.

"Excuse me, Professor?" When she faced him, a question on her face, Giles asked her. "Will you be staying at the mansion for these lessons?"

"No," she answered shortly before elaborating, though it was really no business of his. "Though I will be staying there for a few days until we can come up with an equitable schedule that works best for all of us. I have other duties to attend to. Why do you ask, Mr. Giles?"

"We have run into a slight problem with Mrs. Summers. She could create some problems for everyone because Willow is living with the professors, without a female chaperone," he told her, feeling that she might be the best person to deal with. As Willow had pointed out, the professors were rather caught up in the students they already had to deal with. Professor Lupin also had to deal with the werewolf within him.

Black was out, for obvious reasons. Even though they were in America, they had been warned of the convict by the Ministry of Magic. And, while he did not look like his pictures anymore, there was still a faint trace of it in his face than any artist would pick up on. "While she is not Willow's mother, they are friends and if it was generally known that Willow is staying in a house with only male guardians…"

"Say no more," she held up her hand, silencing him. "I will meet with her, reassure her that there is nothing untoward going on. I suppose that she is not an _unreasonable_ woman."

Giles breathed a sigh of relief, shaking his head. "Mrs. Summers is a very reasonable woman. We would greatly appreciate any help you can give us, thank you."

777

Draco sat by the window and waited, rather impatiently, for his owl to return. Resting his hand on the warm windowpane, he allowed his thoughts to drift all over the place. To let it tread in places he often avoided for the sake of his own peace of mind. His mind was often a dark and scary place to be in, even for him. What he knew, even if no one else accepted it about him, was that the darkness was more than just an idea. It was a living creature inside his heart. It burned and writhed to be free from the constraints he placed upon it.

Inside, that knot of worry and pain ate away at him. His mother never wrote to him unless it was important but what could have happened to her while he was here, away from the troubles caused by the Dark Lord's return? Lord Voldemort couldn't possibly be displeased with his father because he was not at Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy was one of his most devoted and faithful followers.

Gladly would his father have said that he was a follower of him and gone to Azkaban. Yet it was not to be, for his Lord had wanted him to follow another path if the unthinkable happened to him. So, he did as asked and followed his Lord's orders to stay out of Azkaban, to remain in the public arena.

Well, he paused to think for a moment, there had been that incident with Riddle's journal. Though it had nothing to do with him directly, he well remembered his father's worry over it when Voldemort returned. Yet, he hadn't seemed to be that _displeased_ by what had happened to the book. Even if he had changed his mind, what did that have to do with him?

Why had she written to him? Was she ill and needed him to come home immediately to take care of her? Was it his father? What was going on back at home? Inside, the tight knot of worry unraveled and became a mass of corrosive worries that plagued him mind and ate away his confidence.

"Draco, come to class."

"In a minute," he waved off his professor, somewhat disdainfully.

"Now," Professor Snape's voice brooked no argument and he watched as Draco turned away and followed him out of the room, reluctantly. _Narcissa_, he thought, half angrily, _what piece of stupidity have you done now_? _And what must I do to clean up after this mess_?

777

"My lord?" Lucius asked tentatively. He had just seen Mayor Wilkins out and returned to his normal position at the foot of the throne. Something had been troubling him for days and he had finally decided to bring it up with his Lord. The worst his Lord could do was torture him, and he had already done so.

Repeatedly.

Gathering his courage, he asked him. "If it pleases you, my lord, may I ask a question of you?"

"Yes?" he asked, feeling slightly generous with this servant of his. _Really_, he thought idly, _I should probably work on ridding myself of that tendency_. But, for the moment, it pleased him to be generous to his followers. To allow them some kind of autonomy from him, it encouraged them to give him the best they had to offer his cause.

A cause that had become theirs for it appealed to their baser instincts.

Knowing of the gift he'd been granted, Lucius wasted no time in fumbling over his words. It was not prudent to tempt the Dark Lord, even if he seemed to be in a generous mood. "Is it wise to work with the Mayor of Sunnydale? I mean, he has his own plans. What is to say that once he ascends and becomes this true demon he desires, he will not turn on you?"

Voldemort's eyes gleamed in the dim light as they focused on him. The kneeling follower felt a shiver creep all the way through him at the look. "An excellent question, Lucius. It is nice to know that you have not lost _all_ of you vaunted wit," he sneered. "How do I know that he will not betray me once he attains his goal. Quite simple really, he will become a snake. And, demon or not, he will obey the voice and will of Slytherin's One True Heir, myself."

"Brilliant, my lord." Privately, he wondered if it really was all that brilliant. What if the Mayor suspected and found a way to protect himself from Voldemort's voice? Yet, he did not question him on this. It was not his way to point out that there may be a flaw in his Lord's idea. He valued his skin too much to take that chance.

After all, he was no Severus Snape.

"It will be up to you and that silken tongue of yours to keep him from finding out that I have the power to control him," Voldemort informed him coolly, as though offering him a great gift. In truth, he was giving him a gift-with a double edge. This was also a test to see where, exactly, the loyalty of this servant of his lay.

Far too often in the past two years, Lucius had done things that caused him to question his loyalty and devotion. His recalcitrant behavior in bringing his son to the meeting was the final one that Voldemort could not take. He would know where his loyalty lay. Then he would reward him with more trust or with death.

It really all depended upon Lucius.

"Me, my lord?" he asked, surprised. He shouldn't have been. It was no secret that Voldemort had been doubting him lately. He resolved to do better for his Lord, to be a better servant to him-or die with his honor in tact.

"Yes, you. This is a task that I cannot give to Severus. He must continue to protect the Potter boy until I am ready to humiliate him. To destroy him as I destroyed his worthless parents and all those who dare oppose me. You can manage this one, simple task, right?"

Lucius bowed his head, hearing the rebuke and hiding the flush that crossed his pale face. "Of course, my lord. Mayor Wilkins may be slightly more intelligent than Minister Fudge but he is a politician. The breed is not that difficult to manage once you have discovered their weaknesses and one of his happens to be his fastidiousness. I can work with that."

"See that you do. I would hate to lose such an asset as yourself but will find it no small thing to replace you with another."

The warning was clear. "I will not fail you, my lord."

777

Severus sat in his study, a book is his lap and his head resting on his hand. His eyes were half-closed in thought as he contemplated the problem before him. Once he and Professor McGonagall had talked to Mrs. Summers, they had also agreed to see her husband and reassure him that all was well.

The potions master found him to be a tedious man, more bluster than actual strength of character but necessary if they were to continue to learn here unobserved. Though a normal muggle man, he had the strength of mind to see things through to the end, bitter and unpleasant though that end may be. A determination that would spell disaster for them all if he set his mind to it.

His fiancée was no different than he, seeking only her own wishes in things. Severus found that there was something off about her. He could see why Buffy was not fond of the woman. There was something unsettling about her, though she was definitely a human being. His lips quirked at the thought that she wasn't much of a human if she couldn't encourage her man to actually _listen_ to what his daughter wanted out of life.

Honestly, all of these maneuvers among the muggles were utterly fatiguing. If not for his promise to the Headmaster and his insatiable curiosity, he would have bid them all a farewell ages ago.

"Severus."

Turning his head towards the door, he nodded at Sirius Black, a contemptuous sneer on his lips. "Seen your pet wolf down for the night?"

"_Remus_," he emphasized the name, "is safe for the night. Do you think it wise to have this Oz with him? Won't one try to dominate the other?"

"They will come to no harm being together. It may, in fact, help soothe the werewolf in Lupin to feel the presence of one of his own kind. Offense meant to your animagus form intended," he added.

Entering the room, he sat down in the chair and stared at the potions master whose face was partially hidden in shadow. Sirius got the feeling that Severus liked it that way best, one could never be sure he was focused on them. It was…unnerving. "Does it never get tiring?"

"What? Being in your company?"

"Being a loathsome git," his reply was only slightly strained.

"Why try to mess with the nature I've been given?" he retorted.

"Oh, I don't know. Because both Lily and Harry see something worthy in you."

With a sigh, he looked out the window. It made sense that Black would bring _her_ into the equation and also reveal that he saw the connection between him and Harry. Thankfully, it seemed that he was going to be _civilized_ about it.

_For the moment_, he thought ruefully. "Yes, they both have a disturbing sense of myopic optimism about my humanity. Let me assure you, Black, I have none."

"While I hate you, Severus, I find that I can't agree with that opinion. Your half-sister may have been many things but a bad judge of character, she was not. You have some humanity within you. Not much, that I will grant you," he conceded, seeing Snape open his mouth to object. "But some."

"How kind of you," he dryly said.

"Not kind at all," he retorted, stung by the idea that he would be kind to the Slytherin git. It wasn't _kindness_ that made him speak those words, it was a new sense of maturity when dealing with the potions professor. "Just seeing you through new eyes."

_And is that supposed to be a good thing_? Severus wondered but said nothing, there was no point in getting into a fight. Weariness settled upon him and he felt all too aware of the heavy burden placed upon all their shoulders.

"So, what is up with this Willow chit? I get that Buffy is the Slayer, she proved that only to well a few nights ago. But Willow's no common witch, is she?"

"No. She is not," he replied, annoyed by the mutt's obvious desire to talk to him. "Willow is an ambient mage."

Sirius whistled.

"Indeed."

"Shouldn't she be at Hogwarts?"

An eyebrow rose in question at the query, making Sirius feel foolish. "You've been exposed to her over the course of the past few days. Do you really think that she would leave her friends behind in this dark, forsaken place to learn in safety?" Holding up a finger, he silenced the man before he could speak one word. "Black, be honest. Based on what you've learned, do you see her leaving?"

Shooting him a look, he answered. "She's very loyal to her friends and brave. How Hufflepuff of her."

"There's no cause to be insulting, Black."

He laughed, surprised to find there was no bitterness in the sound. It was almost as if, in seeing his old enemy in a new way, he could let go of their rivalry. _Just not completely_, he thought as he stared at his old enemy. _I wouldn't want to give up one of the few pleasures I have left in my life_. "I knew you were going to say that."

"Of course you did," Severus said these words with the air of someone who supposed he should be grateful for small favors. "So, you will not try to do anything to me because of your godson's rather _unfortunate_ _affliction_ in seeing me in a positive light?"

"While I cannot say that I am overjoyed with the prospect of my godson seeing you positively or as a father figure, I will not interfere with it. You are, after all, the boy's uncle."

"So you keep pointing out," he sarcastically interrupted him.

"I suppose that gives you some rights to be his parent figure," he continued as though Severus hadn't said a word.

"Something you are incapable of currently given your status as fugitive-and mental state being closer to his," he pointed out.

"Do you never get tired of baiting me?"

"Do you?" he countered him easily, to which there was no reply for the answer was all too obvious.

End, Part 12.

_Note #2: Buffy's mom ran (runs?) an art shop. I figure that means she has the discerning eye of an artist. Anyone mind that? Also, does anyone mind the Lily & Severus twist?_


	13. I Am In So Much Trouble

_Author's Note and Thanks: I'm sorry this story is taking so long. The voice keeps escaping me. M__ooney's Mate: Thanks for your continual support. I really appreciate it. As for the Severus/Lily connection, that surprised me but it does play an important part in the story. Well, other than in helping Sirius take a new look at Severus and his relationship with Harry._

777

Kendra walked through the streets, aware of the shadowy presence of her Watcher. The setting sun illuminated her path down the alley she had turned. His company had never bothered her before this night, she had always been aware of where he was. More so as the years passed and they had grown into their partnership.

But there was something off about him, something that she didn't like. He had changed from the man he'd always been into something else. While he had always been distant with her, he had never been so cold to her before. For all the distance they'd naturally had because of their respective roles, they had developed a certain…_affiliation_ that she enjoyed. An affiliation that had…grown in years and lead to a surprising development.

Now, though, his attitude had become unapproachable, even remote. Secluded. Cold. Battle hardened and weary. There was a difference in his eyes, in his voice. In the very feel of his essence, it was almost as if…he was no longer the man she knew her Watcher-and her lover for the past year-to be.

It had been that way since the meeting with the Watcher's Council.

But she knew that they did not suspect the change in their relationship. They could not. If they had, they would have separated them-and killed him. This she knew from the past records of the slayers and their watchers.

Attachment like that was discouraged for Slayers were merely tools to be used in the fight against evil, tools guided by the able hands of the Watcher. If the Watcher was compromised by feelings, than they would be removed. It was as simple as that, for even an active Watcher was merely a tool in the hands of the Council.

Her hand automatically swung out, staking the vampire that jumped her automatically. Moving on, she proceeded to focus on her thoughts more than her environment, not troubled by the vampires. As dangerous as they were, this was not their peak-hunting hour.

No. Their time would come later. Then would be the time for her to focus and be totally focused on all that was going on around her. Right now, she could let her thoughts wander about.

As much as she didn't wish to do so, she worried about her watcher more than ever before. She wished that she knew what was going on with him, what was wrong. There was a feeling that he'd gotten in over his head and that he couldn't figure out how to get his head clear of it. That he could not-_would not_-trust her to help him out.

They should've stayed away from Sunnydale, no matter what the Watcher's Council wanted them to do here. Yes, they had the message but they didn't have to give it in person. They could have sent the message to Mr. Giles through safe channels. The Council could have done it themselves. This wasn't her place, for all that she was an active Slayer.

This was Buffy's place and she could not figure out why they did not allow her to do her duty as she saw fit. As she had proven worked.

777

Harry sat in the library, reading the book Professor Snape had given him. On the arm of the chair, a legal pad rested, a few notes and questions scribbled on it. Reluctantly following the professor's advice, he had made his notations in parseltongue, knowing that there were only two people alive who could read them.

And that one probably wouldn't care what he had to say in this notebook. All he wanted was to do was destroy his very existence from off of the planet. Why bother to get to know who he was? That might make him more real and less easy to kill. Unless, of course, he thought he could discover a weakness within him.

But then, as Professor Snape pointed out to him, everybody already knew that.

Attack those closest to him. Those fears were almost enough to make him want to cut himself off from them, all the while knowing it for a foolish thought. Not only wouldn't he get away with it, he didn't think he had the strength to face the future alone. No, he _knew_ he didn't have that strength.

While he didn't like putting them in danger, Harry knew that he needed his friends to be with him if he was going to defeat Voldemort.

Of course, the idea that Voldemort would ever read anything he wrote caused him to shiver. He'd never feared the man before and didn't think it was wise to start now. Fear might cause him to hesitate, to not want to do anything about him.

And yet, Professor Snape's words about Voldemort wouldn't stop cycling through his head. For a moment, he considered going to find him and talk to him about it. He dismissed it as ridiculous after thinking it over.

Snape would not appreciate being disturbed, especially since he was watching both Oz and Lupin.

"What are you doing in here?" Blaise asked, leaning over the chair to stare down at him.

Startled by the voice, Harry looked up at the smirking Slytherin leaning over him. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked, once he got control of his heart rate and breathing again. He was not going to embarrass himself, not in front of her, though he didn't really care what she thought of him.

It was just a matter of pride, that was all.

"Well, to a casual observer, it would look like you are studying. But as I know that the only Gryffindor in your house who knows how to do that with any accuracy is Miss. Granger, I find myself at a loss to explain this rather unusual sight. Hence my question," she drawled. "Which you have yet to answer."

"Contrary to popular belief," Harry said, acknowledging the rumors about him. "I do know how to study. That is what I am doing, as if you couldn't tell."

"Studying what?" Blaise asked, head tilted curiously. The long, dark hair fell to one side, shielding one of her eyes. She found herself deeply curious about this unusual happenstance, something that rarely occurred-especially in relation to the boy wonder. _It has to be about Voldemort for he is studiously working on it. May be it has to do with the final battle. __It is refreshing to see him concerned about the final battle, quite a nice change in pace to find Potter planning for his next trip into disaster_.

_Unless_, she wryly added, _it was about Quidditch_. As much as she enjoyed the game, loved it in fact, she could care less about it when the fate of their world was at risk.

Voldemort would not be so easily stopped this time.

He was stronger this time around for evil never came back in the same state as they departed. And after their last few encounters, he was expecting the unexpected from Potter. The boy had shown that he would not rely upon magic to battle him, that he would use other means to beat him. To many defeats at his hand had caused him to be more wary, to seek out alliances. He would not be so easy to lull into the same sense of security that he'd had before.

All unknowing of the thoughts in Blaise's mind, Harry was having a quiet debate on whether or not to say anything. At last, he shrugged, not having a definite answer to her question. Therefore, he gave her a half-truth. After all, Professor Snape hadn't actually told him _not_ to say anything. He just advised him not to-because of how they would react to what he was learning. "An assignment given to me by Professor Snape," he said, somewhat challenging the Slytherin to press him.

Blaise straightened up instantly, moving to the bookshelf, "All right," she dismissed their conversation from her mind. It wasn't her concern after all. Pulling out a book, she sat in one of the plush chairs and opened the well-worn book. Beginning to read, she immersed herself in the words before her.

Though the reaction was expected, it slightly disappointed Harry. For some unknown reason, he had been hoping that Blaise would press him. Thinking about it, he knew why he'd been hoping for the student to question him further.

It had nothing to do with refusing to answer just to get an annoyed reaction from her. Nor did it have to do with denying the Slytherin student knowledge about his actions. While at one time that might have been true, he no longer had time to indulge in childish rivalries that served no purpose.

No.

What he wanted was to talk to someone about it. Someone who was _**not**_ Professor Snape, for all that they had been getting along.

And his godfather was out, for obvious reasons.

Harry didn't consider the other student a friend. For all the time they spent working together, Blaise was still a _Slytherin_. Still a friend to Malfoy and his ilk and, while she was unlikely to betray his confidences, she was not someone he felt comfortable putting much faith in. Yet because of that house's unique position, he knew she would be able to accept what his friends would not be able to.

_Well_, he amended his thought quickly for he did not want to be disloyal, even in his own thoughts, _what they wouldn't be able to accept right away_. Blaise, though, was a Slytherin and as such, she would know the importance of secrets-and keeping them close to her chest.

With a sigh, he went back to reading through the book. It wasn't as onerous a task as he'd been fearing, he just wished he actually understood more of it. The more he read, the more he dared to hope that it was the solution to his problem. Because he wasn't sure his mind could survive another meeting of Voldemort's. And he was afraid that sooner or later, Voldemort was going to figure out they had a connection.

Figure it out and ruthlessly use it to quash him because the man was not above killing a helpless baby.

777

Amy and Hermione lay on a blanket outside, staring up at the stars. The bright moon glowed brilliantly over head, slightly hidden by a cover of clouds. It was the final night of the cycle and the girls were taking full advantage of it to study the moon in its final phase. To both disciplines, the moon played an important part in their magics.

Hermione idly noted that the full moon had an odd tinge to it that it lacked at Hogwarts and wondered if it had anything to do with the town's mystical portal. It would be something to ask, though she was uncertain she would get an answer. May be she could get Harry to ask Professor Snape for her. The man seemed more than willing to answer his questions now that they were far away from Hogwarts, far more secluded from the rest of the wizarding world.

There was no fear that they would be troubled by the creatures of the night. Since there were some students taking astronomy, an array of wards had been erected and reinforced to protect them. It was taxing work that had to be renewed every other day for the Hellmouth exuded its own brand of power that worked to counter theirs. But it paid off.

"What's it like?"

"What?" Hermione asked, rolling over slightly to look at her.

"Studying magic at a school devoted to it," Amy said, an earnest look on her face. "I had to find a coven of witches with magic similar to help me. And believe me, that isn't as easy as it sounds for my branch of magic is rare. At least in America."

"It's wonderful," she began enthusiastically, then stopped suddenly. The question deserved an honest answer, even if it wasn't one she thought flattered her. "Actually, if you want to know the truth, it's rather scary. When I found out about my powers, I was frightened. I never knew anyone in my family who was magical. I didn't even know that magic was real. I knew nothing of Hogwarts so when I found that Diagon Alley had an extensive bookshop with a large collection of books about Hogwarts, I went there immediately and bought as many of them as my parents would allow. I'm lucky that my parents encourage me to read because I think I went a little overboard with my search."

"Bookish, are you?"

"Terribly so," she admitted sheepishly. "I had a hard time making friends because of it. I was always so excited about what I learned that all I wanted to do was share with others, whether those around me wanted to hear it or not. The thing is, I can understand books better than people. There are no hidden motives or secrets within books, no hidden agendas. Just straightforward knowledge, though sometimes you have to search for it."

"Ain't that the truth," Amy laughed and sighed. She lay back down, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Even if the knowledge is mistaken or outdated, at least it's right there. Books don't hurt the way people do."

"They are challenging, but they don't fill you up in the same way a good friendship does. No matter the pain those friends may cause at times," she sighed as well. Then she looked curiously over, a kind of sheepish look in her eyes. "You sound as though you know what I'm talking about. Yet, of the two of you, I always pegged Willow as the bookish one. She seems so at home in the library, more so than even me."

"Oh, she is. Make no mistake about that. Of the two of us, I'm more likely to be found in the midst of the action, living it up. But," she paused, "I found comfort in books when nothing else would assuage my pain. My confusion."

"What do you mean? Is living on a Hellmouth really that difficult?"

She blinked in shock, "You know?"

"Well, of course I do," she stated in a _no duh_ type of voice. "Professor Snape and Professor Lupin would not bring us any place without telling us of the dangers that lie in wait. We had quite a few classes to prepare us for this trip. Our parents did as well. They weren't pleased when they heard where we were going and what we'd find here. But Headmaster Dumbledore insisted that it would be a good experience for our continuing education. You mean it isn't common knowledge in this town?"

"No," she slowly shook her head, a strangled laugh escaping her. "Only a few people know of it. And you've met most of them."

"How can such darkness be hidden? One would think that with all the vampires running about, killing people, the citizens would notice."

Amy snorted. "Sunnydale residents notice anything? Are you nuts? They wouldn't notice it if you all decided to parade down the streets naked. As for how its been kept secret, well, no one seems to realize that our mayor is his own grandfather. What does that tell you of our observational skills?"

"You live in a very weird town, Amy."

"I know. Isn't it delicious?"

"That isn't precisely the word I would use," Hermione said. "But if works for you, who am I to judge?"

777

The mahogany desk gleamed in the evening light and Mayor Wilkins sat there, watching as his new associate, one Lucius Malfoy, left his office. Tilting his head to rest on his hand, he contemplated the meeting he had just had with the suave man.

_Correction_, he idly thought, _wizard. And a politically adept one at that, capable of keeping secrets when necessary but open to sharing what he had_. Try as he might, he could not quite figure out what exactly the wizard had to gain from their association.

He knew what Voldemort was gaining from this; there was no question at all about that. Voldemort would gain acceptance into the demon world that he had been denied due to his half human status, even if he'd risen from the dead. While the wizard could gain the ear of the half-breeds that roamed the world, he could not capture the interest of the more powerful denizens of the demon world.

But Lucius Malfoy, for all his appearance as a devoted servant…he was hiding his own motivations, his own desire. The mayor could clearly see through that thin disguise of his and wondered if Voldemort did as well. There was something else going on. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but it was there all the same. Swinging the chair about, he met the studiously blank expression of the man behind him, his deputy mayor, Allan Finch.

"What do you think of our new…acquaintance?" he asked, rising to his feet. He knew there was more going on behind that carefully blank face than most would see. It was one of the reasons he had taken him on as his partner.

For a moment, Allan was startled by the query. He hadn't thought that Richard would ask him for his opinion about his meetings with those associated with his other side. He rarely did when it involved his _other_ activities. Recovering quickly, he gave the question some thought before answering, knowing that silence was not acceptable in this situation.

It would, in fact, be seen as an insult.

"I think he's very good at hiding his true motivations for seeking this union with you. He's almost as proficient as Lord Voldemort sounded, for all that he seems to be kinder and more at ease. It is obvious that Mr. Malfoy knows the world of politics-and how to employ that understanding. There is something more to behind this than mere words. He knows something that you do not. Yet, he will not betray his leader. Do you think it is wise to trust them so much? They haven't given you much to go on, just their word."

"Ah, that is quite true," he accepted his words with a complacent nod. It was very similar to what he had been thinking himself. "But I have been aware of this Voldemort, as he insists upon being called, for some time. Though he disappeared mysteriously a few years back, he showed great promise of strength and potential for more. No, it is probably not wise to trust them." He left out the news that the man in question had been dead for all of that time.

"Then do you think it so wise to ally yourself with them? He could possibly be able to take over and leave you with nothing," he tentatively pointed out, unsure that it was a wise thing to do. His boss seemed to be quite set on this course of action and he wasn't sure that it was his job to question it.

Yet, he couldn't help but feel that something was off and that someone needed to say something.

"Oh, I am sure that is his intent, though I am not sure how he intends to do such a thing. It is something to look into," he mused. "And don't worry so much about this. I am not blindly trusting any of them. Far from it, my friend. There are a few tricks I have in my own arsenal that are quite formidable-which you are quite aware of. See to it, Allan. I would do it myself, but I have prior business to take care of."

"Yes, sir," he murmured. "Anything else you want me to do?"

Mayor Wilkins gave it some thought, before shaking his head. With extreme care, he opened the cabinet door and pulled something out. "I don't believe so. Thank you, anyway, Allan. The Slayer problems are well in hand. Or so I've heard."

Allan shivered, knowing what he was referring to. He didn't agree with it but knew that it was necessary for the furthering of the Mayor's plans.

Mayor Wilkins spoke on, ignoring the telltale gesture. Though human, Allan had his uses. "I trust you to find out what is going on with our new _friends_. The only thing that troubles me is that group of students in the Crawford Mansion. I notice that they have had some dealings with our own group of particularly troublesome teen-agers. Still, we shall have to let them be for now. Though I am curious about them, Voldemort wants them left alone. Therefore, we shall play by his rules."

Correctly interpreting the look on Allan's face, he smiled genially, "For now," he finished.

777

Lucius left and made his way down the street, apparating quickly to the mansion. Entering without bothering to knock, he walked into Severus' lab. "I am here for my son." This was said with little preamble and no patience.

Severus did not turn around, he continued to work. "You have two working legs, Lucius. I am sure that you will be able to find him. He's around here somewhere."

"Aren't you even going to ask me what happened at my meeting with the Mayor?"

His eyes slid in Lucius' direction as he reached for a pot. "I did not think it necessary as you do not appear to be maimed in some fashion. You are here, which implies that he did not find it necessary to take your life. Nevertheless, I shall play the role of devoted spouse if it'll make you feel ever so much better for that is my sole purpose in life."

Pasting a sickeningly sweet smile on his face, he turned to face him. He noted in satisfaction the step back Lucius involuntarily made. "Hi, honey. How was your day? Did you meet anyone interesting? Talk of anything of importance to ultimate world domination? Please be sure to talk softly for the children are about. I would hate for them to hear anything that they should not."

"Severus, you are an absolutely heartless wretch."

"And you, Lucius, are not exactly the love of my life. Nor would I want you to be," he coldly retorted, not wincing at all at the look of hate he was given. "As I have said, Draco is about the house somewhere, go and find him. I am working on something for our Lord. Unless you wish that I assume the role of your servant over his and are willing to explain to him about the delay? Or would you like to work on this poison? I'm sure he would be most impressed with your attempts at potion making."

Glaring, he turned and walked out the door, not bothering to close it behind him.

"Fine line you tread there, Severus," Sirius observed, the chair he was in swinging in his direction.

"A line I've learned to walk blindfolded," he dryly countered, waving the door shut. 'You and your friends spent so much time giving me _such_ good lessons on how to do it in school."

Ignoring the dig, he tilted his head and inquired, almost absentmindedly. "I thought you were working on a potion for Oz."

His head inclined momentarily, acknowledging the words with something approaching respect. "You paid attention to my words? How…flattering. As for what I am working on, yes, it is for Oz. He will need it to help his body resume normal functions. I see no reason for Lucius to know that though."

"What does he want?"

"His son, I thought that was obvious even to you." Taking extra care, he slowly poured the dark/light concoction into a mason jar. With a quick drop of some ingredient and a slow stir, he transferred it to a large mug.

"Git," he muttered. "You know what I mean."

Placing the mug aside to cool, he turned and stared at Sirius, arms crossed as he contemplated his current situation. There was no harm-he hoped-in letting the mutt know what was going on. "He intends to present Draco to the Dark Lord tonight. Voldemort has insisted that he see him as he is the one who granted Lucius the right to have a child. All of the Death Eaters had to have his permission to procreate. He rarely allowed them to have more than one child. I believe that tonight will begin Draco's initiation into the ranks of the Death Eaters."

It took a great deal of his strength to remain in his seat. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to bolt out of his chair, to rush after Malfoy and stop him from taking Draco away. Taking several deep breaths to calm his nerves, he studied Severus over clenched hands. "And you will do nothing?"

"While Draco is my student, he is not my son," he reasonably pointed out, knowing it annoyed Sirius to no end. "If I interfere with this situation, it will give away my position as a spy. If that happens, I can no longer protect Potter as I have in the past. Voldemort would block me from his thoughts and his own magical signature, if he did not kill me first that is."

"How can you be so calm?"

"How can you be so emotional?"

"He's my cousin! Of course I'm emotional!" He did get up then and stood in front of Severus, glaring at the taller man. "Would you be so calm if this was Harry we were talking about?"

End, part 13


	14. In Which Complicated Becomes More So

654321

Buffy sat in her living room, waiting for her mother to come home, nervously twisting her fingers. She wasn't exactly sure what to say to her when she did see her mom. She wasn't even sure why she'd been asked, more like ordered, to come straight home after school. Things had settled down around the house after Professors McGonagall and Snape had met with her mom. Even her father and his fiancée had been silent after meeting the teachers-she couldn't blame them for that. Snape was a memorable jerk who really…got things done.

So, what was going on?

Joyce Summers came in and stood in the doorway, studying her daughter as she sat there, her hands clutched together with a death grip in her lap. Closing her eyes for a moment to gather her own thoughts and stiffen her spine against the coming discussion, she entered the room. "Buffy," she started to say, sitting down across from her. "There are a few things we need to discuss. First, I don't want you to go over to that house again."

"But, mom, really," she started.

"No, Buffy. This is not open to discussion. Willow and the friends you've made there may come over to our house. In fact, I would prefer this. While I was impressed with both professors, I do not want you over there. Do you understand?"

"No, I don't."

Joyce had been expecting this. For a moment, she didn't know what to say. For a moment, her resolve faltered but, looking at Buffy brought to mind what she'd learned, it hardened once again. She _**would**_ protect her. "I didn't think you would. But I expect you to do it anyway. It has recently come to my attention that there are certain dangers in this town. Dangers that I do not want you exposed to."

"You mean the vampires?" she asked, taking the chance.

"What do you know of them?"

"Mom, I've known about them from the first night we were here. I lost a friend to them," she said.

"And you did not tell me?"

"You wouldn't have believed me. I mean, could you have brought yourself to believe me that vampires are real?"

Joyce's expression hardened momentarily, before she sighed, conceding the point. She would have found the idea laughable. "You should have given me the choice, not taken it out of my hands."

"I'm sorry but I can't tell you everything." She bowed her head momentarily, knowing that she was still omitting the full truth.

"How about some things, Buffy? There was a time when you told me everything that went on, no matter how trivial and silly it seemed. Now, I feel like I don't know who you are any more. I know that teenagers need to find their own voice, their own identity, have their independence from their parents, but I feel like I'm living with a stranger. A stranger who has my daughter's face," Joyce said, a slight bitterness coloring her voice.

"Join the club," she weakly joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Why did you say that? Buffy, this is not a joking matter."

_You have no idea about how much I realize that this wasn't a joke_, she thought bitterly. _But I have to laugh about it or the weight of it will drive me utterly mad_. _I wish that I could tell you all about what is going on inside my heart, inside my mind, but I can't. I can't because you would never accept that there are just some things that I have to do that you won't like. That you will hate. You are not ready to accept who I really am. I hate to admit this, even if it's only to myself, but I don't think you ever will be_.

"I know, mom. I don't mean to shut you out," _much_, she mentally added, "but things are just so complicated right now."

"Life is complicated, Buffy, that's why you have me to help you deal with the things that you don't understand. There are things you can't handle on your own. I want to help you so much it hurts, but I can't if you don't let me."

"Mom, there are some things that you can't fix," she said.

"But Mr. Giles can?" she asked.

"What?" she gasped. "What do you mean?"

"Don't give me that innocent look, Buffy. Why do you go to Mr. Giles with your problems? Why not me? Is it because he is a man? Is a male role model what you need?"

_I'm wearing a look? What look is that? The one that screams, 'mom, I'm a slayer and I was called to save the world'? Is there even such a look? Breathe, Buffy, you've got to stop doing this. This is the second time you've channeled Willow-and all without the same level of cuteness she has_. "Mom, I'm a vampire slayer."

"A what?"

"A vampire slayer," she repeated. "More to the point, I am the Vampire Slayer. A Chosen One born to fight the vampires."

"Buffy, really. If you can't take this seriously," she started, frustration in her voice.

"I'm telling you the truth, mom." Buffy stood up and started to pace, forcing herself to stop after a moment. The pacing, while it helped ease her nervous energy, was not helping. "Giles knows who I am because he's my watcher. It is his job to keep me alive, to train me, to die helping me. And before you ask, no. He isn't the one who told me. In LA, I had a watcher who died trying to keep me alive because I did not take him seriously. I didn't believe him either. How could I? What he was telling me about was to fantastic, to unreal. And he died because I didn't believe him."

Shaking her head, wanting to deny the truth she read in her daughter's eyes, Joyce found that she couldn't. There was just too much pain, too much _knowledge_ there, to deny it. "How long?" she whispered, wanting desperately to have something to focus on as the world steadily came down around her head.

"Since before you and daddy split. That's why I set the school on fire. There were vampires in there, to many to be destroyed by one person."

"I knew," she whispered. "It seems like I've always known there was more to your behavior than our breaking up."

"Yeah, I was hurt by that. But I understood," Buffy softly said, sitting by her mother. Her arm went around the shaking body, comforting her-and finding it ironic that she was doing so. "I could see what was going on. You and daddy just couldn't be together anymore. You didn't love each other enough. I knew it wasn't me. Well, I mostly knew."

"Why didn't you tell me later?"

"Mom, you would've insisted that we move," she said.

"And we should," she said, agitated by the way Buffy was acting, as though it was on no consequence that what she was doing could get her killed. That the next day cold be her last. "I don't want you fighting these horrible creatures anymore. This is no job for a young girl. You should be in school, learning, dating, having fun."

"I am," she protested, wondering where she was going to find the right words to convince her mom when she felt the doubts. Felt that she shouldn't have to do this anymore. "I have friends. I enjoy school because of them. I have dated a few times. I have fun, even if it's not the kind of fun others have. But, mom, being a slayer isn't something that I can pick up and put down just because it is an inconvenience at times."

"An inconvenience? Buffy, this is not just an inconvenience." Her mother stated, staring at her, her eyes brimming with tears. "This is your life."

"I know."

"Then why don't you stop?"

"Because being a slayer is not just a word, mom, it is who I am." There was a new conviction in her voice. A new sense of purpose behind her that added strength to her, an awareness of just who and what she was-and what she needed to do.

Her mother looked at her, mouth open to say something but she overrode her, keeping to the same even tone that she'd been using. "I am Buffy Summers, that is true. But I am also one of the few girls chosen to stop the forces of evil. And I can't run away from that. People depend upon me whether they know it or not, whether they like it or not. Whether I like it or not, so I can't just stop because it's not something I like to do.

"_I __**am**__ the Vampire Slayer_."

777

Faith opened her eyes. The darkness hung about her so heavily, pressing against her like an all-encompassing blanket, that she shivered away from its icy touch. She'd never thought that darkness had such a telling presence until that moment.

Now that she knew, she wished that she did not. Changing her thoughts to something more productive than focusing on her anxieties, she closed her eyes for a moment before opening them. Blinking uncertainly a few times, she waited for the blankness to recede.

Nope.

Still black.

Dang.

Shaking off her confusion and the slight sense of panic, she resolutely straightened her spine and decided to find out what was going on. Pushing up off the ground uncertainly, she began to feel around, searching for a door or window.

Even a wall would be nice for there would be a switch of some kind to illuminate the room.

As she searched, she racked her brain for some kind of clue as to what had happened to her. The last thing she remembered was sitting in the cemetery with her mother. Correcting that thought instantly to watcher.

They had been reviewing her extra _curricular_ homework when her world had exploded into a fiery wreath of pain. She hoped her mo…watcher was all right. Extending her pre-slayer senses, mystified when she felt nothing. Trying again, she drew into her center as she'd been taught and focused all her energies on her hearing.

Nothing.

Fighting down a sense of panic, she tried to search out with her other senses. _May be whatever caused the explosion is messing with my sight and hearing_, she thought, trying to keep her mind occupied on the here and now. Thinking about where she was would not help her any.

Yet, the result this time was the same.

She could feel nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, she could feel nothing in the room at all. There was an absence in it that bothered her. She knew that all rooms have a feel, a presence.

This one had none.

And the fact that she could barely move her limbs worried her. It felt like she imagined walking through jell-o would. All take with no consistent give. She felt weaker than she'd thought possible, even though she knew that she wasn't up to the full strength of a slayer.

Still, all potentials possessed a bit of the preternatural strength and power of the slayer. If they did not, they could not train at the proper level. They could not prepare themselves truly for the greater abilities that lay before them.

And when the mantle of the Slayer fell upon them, they would be singularly unable to work for it would crush them under its weight.

_Don't worry about that right now. It isn't as important as finding a way out of here. Finish your study of the room_, she counseled herself, trying to reign in her quick breathing. The last thing she needed was to have a panic attack in a strange place that seemed to have no entrance…she cut that thought off instantly, knowing she didn't need to think that. _There has to be a way out of here, you can feel a light breeze. So, air must be flowing to and from the room. To put it bluntly, there must be a window somewhere_.

It wasn't long before she realized the awful truth. A sense of dread filled her as she admitted the truth, she was trapped in a box. Clamping down on the scream that threatened to claw its way out her throat, she slapped herself.

Literally.

_Faith, get a hold of yourself. Stop and think about this problem. What would anyone gain from doing this? Even the demon world would not do this. You must have made a mistake. Go to the corner and start again. Count it out, slowly, and keep track this time. There must've been an error. After all, you weren't paying attention. This time you are. You will find a way out of here_.

With this encouraging thought in mind, the potential slayer began to move slowly, counting her steps as she did. But no matter how many times, the result was the same. Sinking to her knees, her back hit the wall, and, try to keep them at bay though she did, tears escaped her eyes.

That's when she smelled it. Fighting down waves of panic, she categorized the smell as calmly as she was capable of.

Gas.

777

The man in the chair swung about, the lightening in the darkened sky shielding his face and giving it a hard marble like appearance. "You got all of the potentials from the states gathered at the place?"

"Except for the babies and Buffy Summers, yes." They had agreed that the babies would be ignored, for now. There was just too much of a chance that they would be noticed. One couldn't go around kidnapping babies from the hospital at an alarming rate without _someone_ seeing.

"Good. She will be handled later for she still has some use to us."

"And the others?"

"Kill them," the order was coldly uttered. This man had no concern for the lives of these girls. His whole life had been leading up to a moment like this, realigning things the way they should be. They should _never_ have let the American Slayers live as long as they had.

"Yes, Mr. Travers."

777

Willow stopped suddenly at the top of the stairs. Ron, who was right behind her, made an irritated sound in his throat after nearly colliding with her. "Shhhhh!" she hissed, pointing to the tall, blond man walking their way. "Who is that?" There was a sense of a dangerous something emanating from him. A feeling she couldn't place and didn't like.

Peering over her shoulder, he dismissively snorted, recognizing the wizard starting up the stairs. A pained expression on his face, he answered her question. Keeping his voice quiet as if he recognized the imminent danger, "That is Lucius Malfoy."

"Crap!" she jumped back and ducked behind him. "He's one of those people Professor Snape never wants me to meet."

"Ah, as much as I applaud his good taste, why? I thought they were thicker than thieves."

"I could really care less why he doesn't want me to associate with him. It was not one of the things I thought to ask him as he was giving me a lecture on other things that I must do and not do. But, unlike you, I have no real desire to piss off Professor Snape through disobedience. Come on," she hauled him into one of the empty rooms.

Going with her willingly enough, Ron wondered how she'd react if this was one of the rooms that kicked him out. "I don't have a desire to piss him off," he protested in a fierce whisper. He kept a watch on the path in front of the door by keeping it cracked open. "You do realize that he's going to look in here, right?"

The footsteps were getting closer even as he said it.

Waving him to be quiet, she looked about and then opened the window, climbing out of it. Sticking her head back in, she rebutted his words. "Oh, yes, you do. You and Harry are always getting it into your thick skulls to do things that are sure to get him upset. And then you wonder why he takes points and assigns detentions to you. Professor Snape is a harsh taskmaster, but he is not a monster. He gave us a good grade on our report, didn't he?"

Following her out the window and shutting it, he slid down the roof until he reached the tree. Holding out his hand, he guided her down to his position. "Only because Malfoy was on our team. If it had been just us, we wouldn't have scored so high."

"There you go again, thinking that it was only because of Draco that we got a good grade. We got what we deserved because we worked hard on it. We all pitched in and wrote it together and he gave us a fair grade. Honestly, Ron…" her voice trailed off as she realized where they were. "Uh, Ron?"

"Yeah?" he asked, watching as the color slowly drained out of her face.

"You know what?" she nervously nibbled her lip, "I don't think I like heights."

"You couldn't have mentioned this earlier?"

"I didn't think about it." A light breeze blew and the house moved. Flinging herself at Ron with a semi-scream, she latched onto him, wishing she'd never had the brilliant idea to climb out here.

It wasn't one of her better ideas.

_Girls_, he thought, barely having the time to reposition his body before she collided into him. But he somehow managed it and wrapped an arm about her, keeping them both on the roof. Looking about, he noticed Hermione and Amy below them, wondering if he could call them without attracting unwanted attention.

Feeling the shaking of the girl in his arms, he decided to risk it. "Hermione!" he hissed, glancing up once at the closed window. "Amy!" he tried again, hoping one would hear him-and soon.

777

"Familial loyalty?" he sneered, ignoring Sirius' own question even though it demanded some kind of answer. His eyebrow rose as if daring him to say something. "How quaint-and surprising considering your rather checkered past with your family. Perhaps you should remember who they are, if only to think of Narcissa and what she thinks of this situation."

That thought stopped Sirius cold. A smile twisted his face as he thought of his cousin. Shaking his head, he stepped back. "I almost find it in me to pity Malfoy. Narcissa is nothing if not the epitome of selfishness. She must've been _pleased_ to hear what he's gone and done."

"Yes. For all his pride in his father, Draco is more loyal to his mother. She is the quintessential model of what they view as wizard pride, more so than Lucius. In her, Draco finds the example of what he wishes to be. Autocratic and coldly authoritative as all _pure blooded_," he sneered out the term, reminding Sirius once again of how foolish Severus thought the concept was, "Wizards should be. She would never be caught doing what his father does. I'm afraid it will be quite a blow to Draco when he sees his father bowing down to his Lord so willingly, in such an abasing manner."

"It still doesn't seem right," Sirius said, moving back to sit in his seat. "Bringing a child before that…that dark creature."

"And letting our war be fought by children is?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Harry Potter is a child. For all of his accomplishments, he is a child. A child whose shoulders the entire wizarding world has placed the burden of fighting and defeating Voldemort upon. He has risen to the occasion myriads of times because no one else will do it. With his two friends to aid him, he has successfully defeated him." he paused, staring at Sirius contemplatively. "How fair is that? Especially when the man he considers to be a friend and mentor will have nothing to do with him ever since a certain revelation came along for he has cut him almost entirely out of his life."

Sirius met the eyes and flinched, seeing the open condemnation in them. "I've got to go."

"He's in the library." Severus called out after the retreating figure. _Getting rather maudlin in your declining years, Severus_.

Yet, there had been no other option for he could feel the weight of his sister's stare upon him. An angry stare that had been focused on him ever since Harry had revealed his rather surprising connection with Voldemort. A stare that told him he better _fix_ this problem or she would.

A few moments later, Blaise entered the room and waited for him to acknowledge her. "Yes?" he finally asked when she just stood there, a disgruntled look on her face. He found her silence interesting for she, like his other students, knew that they could just enter his lab and speak to him about anything.

He rarely turned them away.

"I suppose you are responsible for the disgusting scene I just witnessed."

"To what do you refer?"

Flopping down on the chair abandoned by Black, she crossed her arms and glared at him. "I was reading quite peacefully when that ghastly wretch of a wizard entered and started blubbering apologetically to Potter. It was so sickening that I almost lost my stomach."

"Blaise, there are some beings who need human compassion. Those two are examples, you should never forget that." He stopped, holding up his hand. Creeping over to the window, he glanced out and reached down. Grasping the surprised listener by his collar, he pulled him up and into the room, flinging him down into the center of the room, casting a quick spell to hold him in place.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" He smiled forbiddingly at the sound of the frightened squeak, noting absently that Blaise had gotten up and left the room. "If it isn't little Peter Pettigrew."

End, part 14


	15. This Is What's Become of You?

_Author's Note and Thanks: Borrowed Faith's Watcher from my sister. She won't be in the story that much, but I'll try not to let her be an MS. Just thought I'd warn you right now. My sincerest thanks to spk and Moony-Mione-Padfoot for their words and support for this story, it is taking a long time to write. Sorry about the time between updates. RL is RL._

777

"From the interesting look upon your imitation of a face, I would guess that the Dark Lord doesn't know that you are here." Severus nonchalantly loomed over the frozen man. His piercing eyes bored into him, watching as the color drained from his already pale face. "So the question is, what should I do with you, you conniving little worm?"

Peter stared up at him, mouth hanging open in fear. Even though he'd always been the smallest and the weakest of all the Marauders, he'd never had that vituperative gaze turned upon him. He'd been protected by James and Sirius and, to a lesser extent, Remus.

"I came here, came here seeking sanctuary," he nearly incoherently stuttered. His voice trailed off, unable to say anything else.

"With us?" he skeptically asked after a moment, just letting the man stew in the silent wake that followed his words. Severus just stared down at him, shaking his head slightly. What did the man hope to accomplish by coming to a place were two people despised him? And appealing to _**him**_, of all people, for mercy?

"Yes?" he half questioned him, as though it should be obvious to him. "I mean, after all you have Headmaster Dumbledore's ear."

"I do? That's news to me," Severus dryly said. With a twinkle in his eye, vaguely reminiscent of Albus' own mischievous one, though this held more maliciousness in it, he said. "You know what? I've decided what I'm going to do with you."

"Take me to Hogwarts?"

Severus smiled in a purely _evil_ way. "No, that won't do at all. I'm going to take you to your _good friend_, Sirius Black. He's going to _love_ seeing you again-especially since he didn't get a chance to say good-bye to you after your last meeting. I'm sure he'll love the opportunity to get reacquainted with you and will know what to do with you."

"Oh, that's all right." He shook at the suggestion, feeling the very fiber of his being shrivel up at the mention of Sirius Black. Sirius scared him in a way that Snape and the Dark Lord did not. "You really don't have to do that. We can just go to Hogwarts and not bother him because he's…he's…he's with his godson. And I would hate, absolutely hate to interrupt that."

"Peter, how can you possibly say that?" Severus' voice oozed condescension as he spoke, "He won't mind."

"No, I won't."

777

_**Slam**_!

The body of the hapless man hit the wall as the black haired, slightly plump woman shoved him against it. Her grip was as hard as her green eyes and they bored into him mercilessly, seeming to read into his soul. "I don't give a damn about your orders. WHERE IS SHE?!?"

"In lockdown," he stammered, seeing no real reason to keep silent any longer. Besides, this woman positively shook with rage.

Flinging him aside in absolute, sheer disgust, the smaller female turned to look up at her companion. "Keep an eye on him."

"It'll do you no good. You'll never make it in time. The order has already been given. All you will be doing is risking your own life."

"It is my life. And something we should all be willing to do for our slayers. For this fight is not only theirs but ours as well."

"You are pathetic!" he spat at her.

A flash of fire lit the eyes and she whirled about, sneering down at him. "I'm not the one who was so weak as to yield under a little bit of torture, rodent. We'll just see about that, little man." Her booted foot connected with his face, knocking him out. "Get into the system. I'll go ahead. Radio me when you've found her."

"And the others?"

Closing her eyes briefly to hold back the automatic reply that they weren't her problem, she made a quick decision. The only one she felt she could make under the circumstances. After that, she would not think of this any longer. "These locks are all automatic. Override the system and let them loose."

"As you wish, Ms. McKane."

Bolting down the corridor, her steps never wavered. She called back over her shoulder, knowing that her partner would already be in the system. His computer skills was one of the reasons she kept him around. "Once you've done that, call Rupert Giles. Warn him that we are on our way."

777

Lucius walked past the door and paused, glancing in once. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, he went on until he saw Draco. His son was sitting in a wing backed, curled around a book in a room at the back of the mansion. One of his hands lazily stroked the white cat sitting on his lap.

Off to the right, a few of the Slytherin boys played a game of some kind in front of a warm fire, though the night was not cold. He noted upon taking a closer look, to his growing horror, that the game they played was a horrid muggle one.

His lip curled up into a derisive sneer, seeing how positively _muggle_ his son and friends looked as they went about their business. This would not do. Instead of benefiting from learning magic and being examples towards the others of the school what pure bloods were supposed to be like, they were adapting to the habits of the muggles that surrounded them.

This situation would not do and his face showed his disapproval. "Draco!" he snapped, watching in satisfaction as the boy jumped in shock, the cat dropping to the ground with a mewl of protest.

Tail in the air, it spat at Lucius as it stalked off. Definitely offended by the slight done to its royal dignity, the boys noted before they cleared the room as well.

"Why were you not waiting for me as I requested in my letter?"

Standing up stiffly, he turned to face his father and answered, almost defiantly. "I received no such letter, father. The only letters I have been receiving have all been from mother. If I had known that you would be here tonight, I would have been waiting for you in the parlor."

Even as he said this, he wasn't entirely sure it was the truth. Of course, his mother had warned him that this would happen. She had asked him to be on his best behavior and do nothing that would disgrace the Malfoy and Black name, no matter what happened when he went with his father.

As if he would ever do such a thing. Draco knew who and what he was. He took pride in his heritage.

Narrowing his eyes, Lucius approached and tapped his cane lightly against his son's shoulder.

Though light, there was definitely a warning there. One he knew all too well.

"Insolence from you, Draco? I do believe that you have been spending too much time here in this disgustingly _muggle American_ land. After we return, I shall ask Professor Snape," he spat out the name, "to send you home. I have had enough of this foolishness and find that it has done nothing to further your education."

Seeing Draco's mouth open, his eyes narrowed even further. "Protests, Draco?"

"No, father." His head bowed, shielding his face from further scrutiny. Inside, he was raging against this edict. Of course, he also wondered about the particularly vicious way his father attacked his Head of House. It didn't seem quite right with how the two men had been acting towards each other.

"Excellent," he practically purred. "Shall we?"

Gesturing towards the door, he watched as his son stiffly walked out. As they passed the door right beside the stairs, he paused and looked in again. Something was irking him and he couldn't put his finger on it. Aware of Draco's curious eyes watching him, he nevertheless entered the room. There was something itching in his mind, a suspicion that something was not quite right about this room.

Lighting his wand, he searched it before walking towards the sole window and looking out.

777

Hermione and Amy talked on, unaware of Ron's desperate call for help. Raising his voice slightly, he started to call out again. He stopped, seeing the light flick on above them. "Of all the times to forget my wand, why did it have to be now?" he muttered angrily.

Raising her head from the shelter of his chest, "You forgot it?"

"Yes," he snapped.

"I do that to," she admitted quietly, curling back into the shelter of his arms. With a slight sniffing sound, she added. "It makes Professor Snape very angry. He gets all quiet with me and a terrible look enters his eyes. I don't like how it makes me feel."

"And yet, you defend him. Constantly." There was more than a sound of faint consternation in his voice. "I just don't get that. How can you defend him?"

"Well, he has to impress upon me the importance of carrying my wand at all times. Besides, someone has to look after him. Don't they?" she ended with a half-question, voice muffled slightly. "I mean, wouldn't you want someone to take your side when you can't?"

"Snape can talk very well for himself," he retorted, keeping an eye on the lighted window.

"There is a difference between talking and defending oneself," she argued.

"What do you mean?"

Pulling back again, she looked up at him and shrugged. "I have no idea. It just seemed like the right thing to say."

"You are a strange one, Rosenberg," he shook his head. "I don't think whoever's in that room is just going to leave. Do you think that may be he suspects something?"

Her green eyes widened as she stared at him, "You're asking me?"

"No, I'm asking the invisible ghost of the house. Of course, I'm asking you," he rolled his eyes, half amused but mostly exasperated by her behavior. "I could really use my wand right about now."

"Where is it?"

"In the bureau by my bed," he started to say. Then his eyes widened as he realized what she was going to do. Shaking his head, he fiercely protested. "Oh, Willow. You can't be thinking of…you're going to get us both in trouble if you do that."

"If we don't get out of here, we'll be in even more trouble," she commented, very glad that her reserves were back. "Do you really want to explain to Professor Snape or Lupin how we got up here? And would you please be quiet? I'm trying to concentrate. It isn't as easy as it looks, especially when doing this relatively blind-and trying to keep it out of sight."

"You're nutters," he muttered but stilled his tongue. Even though she was adept at this kind of thing, he knew it would be bad to disturb her concentration. He really didn't want to know what might happen to them if he did. When his wand came floating over to them, he reached out a hand and took it. "It's really creepy when you do that."

"Really?" she asked, tilting her head to look at him. "I find it creepy that you don't."

Trying to think how to do this, he ignored the comment. Brightening as he recalled a spell that should do the trick, he quickly cast it. They were on the ground, slightly to the right of where the girls were but out of the way quickly. He figured that it would do them no good to surprise them, considering that Malfoy may still be on the lookout for them.

"Good spell," Willow applauded him. Suddenly realizing her position, she let go of him, flushing. "Sorry 'bout that."

"I'll make you a deal," he bargained with her. "You never do that again and we'll forget this whole thing happened."

"Think I want to talk about it?"

"I don't know," he shot back. "I'm not an American."

"What does that have to do with anything?" she fired back.

"Your country has a strange sense of humor," he said, watching her eyes flash. Slightly paling as he realized the implications of his words, he backtracked as quickly as he could. "Willow, don't be mad at me to. I can't take having another girl being mad at me."

"Okay," she sighed as they walked back to the house. "I don't have the energy to be mad at anyone right now, even if they somewhat deserve it. And you do have a point. Our sense of humor is odd. Of course, I find yours equally puzzling."

"Will you tell Hermione that I can be right about something?" he asked.

"Oh, I think she knows. She just thinks that you should be more right about school work, not human nature."

"But there's more to life than books, Willow."

"Yeah," she agreed.

"So why is she focusing on just one thing?" He held the door open for her and followed her into the warm kitchen.

Thinking it over, she shrugged. "Comfort zone. Much like your Quidditch seems to be a comfort to Harry."

"Uh, not to be rude or anything but what were you doing on the roof?" Harry asked quietly.

Their heads whipped around and they saw him at the kitchen table, slightly kicking it. A mug of something in front of him, steam curled up and around his face.

"Hiding from Lucius Malfoy," Ron answered, recovering rather quickly from the shock. "How did you know we were up there?"

"Did a locator spell, I wanted to talk to you about something," he shrugged. Picking up the mug, he sipped before continuing. "You'll never guess who we have in Snape's lab at the moment. Never mind, it's Peter Pettigrew."

"Why is that rotten rat here?" Ron asked, fist tightening on his wand.

"Beats me," he said, watching them both. In the back of his mind, he filed away the reference about hiding from the senior Malfoy for later questioning. Though he knew there was a good reason for Willow to avoid him, he had never known _**Ron**_ to back away from anyone.

"Why are you here instead of finding out? I mean, Pettigrew's arrival can only be bad new for you. This isn't like you at all, Harry. Usually you're right in the thick of it, trying to put together the pieces."

"I know," he agreed with him, explaining. "I was told-and I quote, '_Keep your curious nose out of this. What happens between Peter and me is not your affair. Am I making myself clear, Harry?_' And since I had promised Sirius that I would be more careful, I came in here with Blaise to avoid to whole mess. She's around here somewhere."

"Who is this Peter Pettigrew?" Willow asked, looking between them. "And why do I really feel like I should know that name? That I've heard it somewhere before?"

Harry and Ron exchanged looks, wondering what they should tell her. "He's the wizard who betrayed my parents to Voldemort," he finally said.

"Oh," she faintly said. "Uhm, wouldn't it be a bad thing for him to be here? How do you know he hasn't been sent to kill you? Or take you before Voldemort?"

"Because the Dark Lord wishes to have an actual fight with Potter," Blaise coolly answered for him. Unlike them, she understood the mind of the Dark Lord all too easily. "And if Potter is killed by someone else, he won't get it. The same goes if he doesn't finish his schooling because of someone's idiocy. To Voldemort the greatest humiliation he has ever suffered was to be defeated by a small baby. He will not allow that kind of defeat to tarnish his reputation again. He wants to have an actual duel with him. I know because he's a Slytherin and, other than ambition, pride is our defining feature."

"Wonderful," Harry groaned and hid his face in his hands. "Could my life get any worse?"

"_That depends, my darling son, on what you consider worse_."

His head shot up and he looked about, eyes wide as his breathing came in harsh pants. There was no mistaking what he heard, though he could see nothing. He knew that voice from his nightmares, from his dreams of a past he barely recalled as being his.

It was his mother's voice.

Ignoring the looks and questions he was getting, he tentatively called out, "Mom?"

777

_Ring_!

Giles reached over and picked up the phone, "Hello," he absently greeted.

"_Giles, I need you to come over_."

The voice on the other end sounded different somehow but he knew it to be Buffy's. It snapped him out of the book he was studying. "Is everything all right?" he asked, putting aside his work.

"_I told mom everything. Well, not all of it because I don't know all of it. I just the part about the vampires and my being the Slayer_," she answered, adding hesitantly. "_Does that make out to be all right_?"

Taking off his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "It depends on the reasons. Why did you choose to tell her now after so long?"

"_She knows about the vampires_."

"Ah."

"_Yeah_," she nodded, though she knew he wouldn't see it. "_She told me I couldn't go to the mansion because of the dangers she just found out were here. I figured it would be best to tell her what I knew. I didn't think it was right to take the chance on not being allowed out at all. You know, total supervision, always being watched, giving me no opportunity to sneak out to do my slayer thing. Are you going to tell the Council about this_?"

"There's nothing to tell," he finally said after some thought. There was no point in denying it any longer. He had ceased to be loyal to the Council when he had meet Buffy Summers and had integrated into her life. She was his Slayer-and the one who had his total loyalty. "It was naïve of us to believe that your mother would never find out what was going on. Does she know that Xander and Willow know of this?"

"_Not exactly_," she hedged, biting her lip and watching her mom from her position. It didn't look like her mom was listening in, but one could never tell.

"Buffy," he started.

"_I know, I know. I can't keep that secret from her forever. It's just that she's only now found out about who I really am_," she sighed and he heard a rustling sound, revealing that she was fidgeting nervously. "_I don't want to overload her with to much information. Nor do I want to disappoint her by letting her know that my friends have known from the very beginning about the night world. But I think she suspects that they do. My mom's not stupid_."

"Why do you need me to come over? It sounds to me like you have everything under control," he observed, proud of the way Buffy had calmly handled the situation.

"_Mom wants to talk to you_," she shrugged. "_I guess she wants some in depth information-and to find out how serious you are in keeping me safe. I don't think she believed me when I said that you are a more of a partner to me than a watcher_."

"Did you explain what a watcher was?" he asked.

"_I tried to but I don't think my explanation pleased mom_."

"Very well," he said. "Let me finish this research…"

"_Giles_!"

He winced at the sound of the whine in her voice. "Don't start, Buffy. It has nothing to do with your job or some arcane prophecy. What I happen to be researching is something that I believe with help Professor Snape and young Mr. Potter," he patiently explained, adding, with a slight bite in his words. "Not everything I do has to do with you or the Council, you know."

"_Could've fooled me. I seem to make your life-and theirs'-have meaning_."

Glancing up, he nodded at Xander who had just knocked on his office door. "Their lives might have more meaning because you are a part of it, but I do fine with my own."

"_Sure you do. I know you love me_," she drawled slightly before laughing. "_I'll see you when you get here. And Giles_?"

"Yes?"

"_Drive carefully_. _I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you_."

Buffy hung up before he could reply and he stared at it in consternation for a moment. There really was nothing he could have said anyway, really. She already knew. Shaking his head, he hung up the phone.

777

End, part 15


	16. Calling In Favors From The Past

_Author's Notes: I'm sure that I've said this before but I feel that I should probably repeat it for the sake of my sanity, if not your own. This story is not compatible with "HP & the OotP" or "HP & THBP" or "HP & TDH"-while it acknowledges some developments from those stories (Snape's half blood status), it ignores other things. Snape is a GOOD GUY, this is not going to change no matter what JK does to him. He is, quite honestly, one of the few characters in the HP stories that is a fascinatingly gray character._

777

At the sound of a throat clearing, Giles looked up to find Xander standing in his doorway, waiting patiently to be noticed. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm just great-unlike you. What was that about?" Xander replied, entering the room and leaning against the desk, ignoring the look he received.

"Buffy had to tell her mom," Giles shortly replied, glancing over Xander's shoulder at the open door significantly. This was, after all, not something they should speak of openly.

"Ah," the teen nodded, not really surprised by this. In truth, he and Willow had often talked about how long it would be before Buffy would have to tell her mom. Mrs. Summers, while not the most observant of people, was not stupid. "Wondered when that would happen all things considered. So, what's on the world saving agenda?"

"Not much," Giles said with a shrug that did nothing to conceal his concern. "Things are strangely quiet tonight."

"And that's not good?" Xander asked, picking up a pencil and twirling it between his fingers.

"Not when you think about the fact that we are sitting on a literal vortex of evil. It doesn't matter right now, Xander. Would you put these books away for me? Neatly-and keep them in my office if at all possible," he added, taking the pencil away from him.

"Not a problem, Giles. I am so the man for the job," Xander said, saluting him mockingly.

Before he could do more than glare at him, the phone rang. "Now what?" he asked, glaring at the phone as though that would stop it from disturbing him. He didn't think he could handle any more revelations.

"You could always pick it up and find out."

"Thank you, Xander. As ever you are the soul of helpfulness."

The teen smiled widely, not offended by the words or the acidic manner in which they were spoken. It went unspoken but they all knew that's just how Giles was. He cared for them all, he was just very _Giles-ish_ about showing it to them.

"That's what I'm here for, my friend. To spread a little of the Xander love about," he quipped.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes in a very childish manner, he picked up the phone. Clearing his throat, he said, "Sunnydale High Library, Rupert Giles speaking."

"_Are you_ _Rupert Giles, son of Andrew Leon Giles and the grandson of Athena Giles, both renowned Watchers? The man who was training to become a fighter pilot before deciding to take up the mantle of Watcher that is your birthright. If you are him, then you should know that I was told to call you for aid._"

"Who told you to call me?" he asked, knowing that only someone within the organization would know of his pedigree and his history.

"_Ms. McKane._"

Giles knew of this Ms. McKane only by reputation. And an interesting reputation it was at that. Rather new to the world of the active slayer and watcher pairing, she had been given her own daughter to guide through the rigors of the slayer's world. He knew that she was a strong willed, stiff backed woman who traveled the unknown middle road of the watcher, somewhere between a traditional and a revolutionary one.

She was worrisome to the Council-but she got results. "Why would she tell you to call me?" he cautiously asked. "I'm not a District Watcher."

"_I'm aware of that, sir. But she doesn't trust them to handle this situation properly. She believes that you will not only do what is right, but what is necessary._"

"All right," he slowly said, intrigued despite himself. "What does she need?"

"_She needs your help._"

"With what? I only have a limited supply of resource materials here. Most of my books are sadly outdated and in need of repair. But I will do the best I can to aid her."

"_Nothing like that, sir. In fact, she will bring you what she has._"

"Then what is it, if not research?"

"_She needs a safe haven for her and her Slayer, Faith._"

The request seemed so out of place, so odd, that for a moment, he couldn't process it. When his mind caught up with the conversation, he simply asked, even as he wrestled with the only possible explanation for it. "Why?"

"_The Watcher's Council has given a general execution order on all American Slayer Potentials._"

The phone fumbled in his hand before he took a deep breath, suspicion confirmed. _What was happening to the Watcher's Council? Are we murderers now_? "Tell her that I am most sorry but she cannot come here. Not only are we on an active Hellmouth, but many members of the Watcher's Council are here, supervising the current slayer, as well as keeping an eye on the former slayer to make sure that she is still up to the task of being the slayer."

"_Where else is she to go? She…_" the phone was pulled from his hand and a new voice, a higher pitched one with a definite attitude, carried over the line, sharp and clear.

"_Listen, Rupert, you owe me by right of being a fellow Watcher. My slayer is dying and we need your help._"

"Ms. McKane," he started to say, wondering how he was going to put this. It wasn't an easy thing to say-especially since he knew how he'd feel if he was the one in this situation. Logic and rational thinking had no place in the intertwined lives of on the battlefront slayers and their watchers.

"_Rory,_" she corrected sharply, interrupting his thoughts. "_If I'm going to make free with your name-and I will-than you must call me Rory, Rupert._"

"Very well," he conceded. "Rory, there is to much danger awaiting her here. Let me get in contact with an old friend in the area and give him the heads up."

"_I am __**not**_ _going to trust my slayer with that creature who passes as a man Ethan Rayne._" Her voice sneered over the line.

"It isn't Ethan," he stated firmly, with more than a touch of revulsion in his voice. It was obvious that there was still a lot of unresolved anger within him towards his old acquaintance and his actions. "I have had no contact with him since the day he tried to kill Buffy."

"_Well, who is it then? I warn you right now, I will not allow my slayer to be taken of by just anyone._"

"I'd rather not say until I've gotten in touch with him. He may be out of the country or unable to help due to the nature of his…job. I will say this, he is someone I trust with my life. He does not practice nor does he dabble in the black arts."

An angry exhalation sounded in his ear. "_Very well. But if he isn't available, I am coming to you. And don't you dare try to hold me back, Rupert. Faith needs help._"

"I understand that. But you won't find much of it here. As I was just telling your associate…"

"_Cory Beddan_."

"Very well," he acknowledged the name. "As I was telling Mr. Beddan, the Watcher's Council has taken up residence here. If you were to show up with Faith, the both of you would be killed. They are not very happy to be disobeyed-and you know it."

"_Thanks for the reminder,_" she dryly commented, acid dripping from her voice. "_I never knew that about the Council. I always thought they were perfect humanitarians._"

Xander brushed past him and reached for the open book on his desk. "Not that one," he said, cupping his hand over the receiver. "I still need that one."

"Gotcha," Xander moved back and picked up another one, moving to the shelf. Though he had tried hard not to, he couldn't help but listen in on the conversation. And what he could hear, he didn't like.

"Rory, I do appreciate sarcasm-but only when it is appropriate. This is not that time for it is your slayer's life that is at stake."

"_She's not just my slayer, Rupert_," she angrily said, more than a touch of pride there. "_She's my daughter_._ You have two hours to reach this guy, then I'm taking matters into my own hands-and I will see you in Sunnydale. Understand?_"

"Of course," his lips twisted as he said the words. _Add prideful and hasty to that list,_ he thought, wondering how he managed to get himself into these kinds of situations. "Your daughter's life is at stake and I don't wish for anything to harm her."

The book dropped from Xander's hand as he turned to stare at Giles, absolute shock on his face. "Daughter?" he mouthed.

Giles grimaced, "Later," he replied quietly.

Though he was still very unsettled, Xander let the subject drop.

"_How shall I know your friend?_"

"I'll call you with the information. What is your number?" Quickly writing it down, he said good-bye and sat down with a sigh.

"Problems?" he asked, voice heavy with other questions, other concerns. He couldn't shake the feeling that something very important had happened and that it was going to change things for them all.

"We'll discuss it with the others later," he waved him off. Rubbing the back of his neck tiredly, he sighed deeply. "I know it isn't what you want to hear but for now, it is the best I can do. I don't want to go into this more than once-and certainly not in this manner. It would be best to speak of this somewhere else, with our new allies. Please, be patient, Xander. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Waiting for Cordelia to get out of cheerleading practice," he sat down on the edge of the desk. Though it was a bit of a struggle, he let go of his questions. "You should really take some time off, you look beat." For once, he wasn't being facetious about this. Giles looked absolutely done in.

"I cannot afford to take the time off now, not with the Council breathing down my neck. And this?" he pointed at the book on his desk. "I don't like what it is implying."

"Trouble for us? Or them?" he asked, unable to read it.

"Of that, I am not sure. It isn't written clearly but it could be trouble for the both of us if what my calculations are correct." Rubbing his neck tiredly, he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a thick, black velvet book. Flipping rapidly through the pages, he paused on the one he wanted. "Xander, not that I don't appreciate your help, or your presence. But would you mind leaving me alone? This is a matter is not for the casual listener. The man I'm going to call is very secretive, his job isn't exactly…normal."

"Gotcha, Giles. I'll see you tomorrow." Hands raised in mock surrender, the teenager left the room, greeting Cordelia with a kiss on the cheek. "See you later!" he called.

"Don't I even get to say hi?" Giles heard Cordelia say irritably.

"Not right now," Xander replied, keeping to a happy voice. He knew it wouldn't fool Cordy, but it would keep her from asking questions right now, "He's busy. Watcher stuff, you know."

Though her eyes narrowed, she nodded, muttering. "You are so going to explain what you mean by that later. Good-night, Giles."

"Good night, Cordelia. Xander. Thank you both for stopping by." After hearing the door close behind them, he dialed a semi-familiar number. When he heard the lightly accented, slightly husky voice answer, he simply said. "You near New Orleans?"

"_Where else would I be, mon ami_?"

"I don't know. Globetrotting, perhaps?" he dryly suggested, rubbing the back of his neck again as he glanced up at the clock. He knew that he'd better get a move on it or Buffy was likely to get herself all worked up. Thinking of her situation, he winced. He _**really**_ was not looking forward to the coming interview with her mother.

"_I only do that a few months out of every year, when the weather down here is absolutely abysmal-which is something you already know, mon ami. Though I am far from a pauper, I am not exactly a prince_."

"Anymore," he dryly reminded him.

"_I try not to dwell in the past. Why are you calling me, Rupert? Decided to give me that redhead of yours at last_?" he asked, a sly grin in his voice.

"I know it is most difficult for you but do try to refrain from being an arse. The redhead, as you call her, is not mine and she has a name. Willow Rosenberg is not for you," he witheringly replied. "She is a powerful mage and one that is not to be taken by the whims of a wizard of your pedigree. Leave her be."

"_What a shame. She is most delicious._"

"She is also a child," he said, a slight bite in his voice. "One I will not hesitate to defend with my very life. You may be a friend, but she is family. I will not bother with niceties if you harm her. I will kill you."

"_Very well, mon ami. But if I cannot contemplate her for fear of your most impressive wrath, I have nothing else to think of. What favor is it that you wish of me_?"

After explaining the situation, and extracting a promise from him, he called Rory back and let her know what was going to happen. With another deep sigh, he rose and pulled on his jacket. Taking the book with him, he shut off the light, locked his office door, and made his way outside.

777

Severus stepped back and turned to face Sirius with idle curiosity. In all his memory, he didn't think he'd ever heard such a coolly uttered statement from the man. And the terribly horrible thing about it all, was that there was no rage emanating from the man.

There was utter deadness.

Peter squawked and jumped back, tripping on his robe and ending up in a tangled mess on the ground.

"You know, Peter, I thought that if I ever came face to face with you again, I would have no compunction in killing you for what you did to my friends. But now, I find that I can not even bring myself to punch you. You aren't worth it," he said, turning to face Severus. "Would you leave us and call Headmaster Dumbledore?"

Seeing no reason to stay, Severus turned and walked out the door, ignoring Peter's begging entreaty to him. Heading towards his lab, he shivered, feeling the presence of someone he hadn't felt in years. _Lily_, his mind whispered in disbelief.

Shaking it off, he called Hogwarts, feeling his arm flare up even as he did so. Refraining from showing his pain, he spoke, "Yes, Headmaster, Pettigrew is here. He wishes to see you-and I must go."

"_I'll be there soon. Does Harry know_?"

"I would imagine so. It is hard to keep anything from him." His voice was resigned, but slightly uneasy. He knew there was a shock coming, he just didn't know if he was ready it.

"_Be careful, Severus. I worry over what he wishes of you this time._"

"I do not. The Dark Lord is far from finished with me." Ending the call, he grabbed his robe and made his way out the door. Taking one moment to look in on Lupin and Oz, he was rather pleased to note the way the two had curled around each other, like a father and son. It was exactly as he had hoped it would be.

Then he left.

777

"Harry? Are you all right?" Willow asked, resting her hand on Harry's arm.

"I thought I heard my mom," he shook his head, trying to clear it. Looking up into her clear green eyes, so like his own, he asked, "But that's impossible, isn't it?"

"If you were anywhere but on a vortex of evil, I would say, yeah, probably. But you are-and the Hellmouth is not just a portal to hell. It does have ways of being manipulated to lead to more places than just evil dimensions. Giles says that the bridge between the living and the dead is much thinner here. So, I'd say if you believe that you heard your mom, you heard your mom. Just don't ask me how that's possible, that's more Giles thing than my own. Any cookie dough left?" she asked, changing the subject.

End part 16


	17. The Past Speaks With A Right Hook

_Author's Note: I am not going into the whole Mrs. Summers/Giles' conversation over Buffy and her slaying duties. I do not think that I can do it justice, and I believe that (after trying several times) it only bogs the story down_.

777

Kendra bolted upright in bed, a scream dying on her lips. Sweat drenched her vision and she struggled furiously to free herself from the covers tangled about her body. Rushing into the bathroom, the entire contents of her stomach were dumped into the toilet.

Shaking hands pushed her hair back, away from her sweaty forehead. Her mind felt too numb to process more than a few words and these words drilled themselves into her mind with fevered precision. _Slaughtered_, they circled about, echoing in her mind and crescendoing with every word, _slaughtered like animals. Penned up in chambers all across the country, stolen from both family and trusted friends to be killed. Slaughtered_.

"This behavior is unacceptable for a Slayer," Mr. Zabuto said from behind her. "You have had a dream of prescience and need to record it, not indulge in weakness."

"_Weakness_?" she repeated in utter disbelief. "How is it weakness to mourn for my sisters who are fallen? Who have been robbed of their lives unfairly?"

"Death happens to the Slayers. It is their life's path," he stoically replied.

"But not on such a large scale," Kendra said, standing up and facing him head on. "Don't you care about the utter wrongness of their deaths?"

"Emotions are a weakness that you cannot afford," he sternly rebuked her. "You will stop acting like a child and return to your duties."

Kendra pushed past him, ashamed of his words and her actions. But she was angry at him-angry with the way he denigrated the deaths of the Slayers. These deaths were needless and she hurt for them. "I never left my duty just because I have taken the time to mourn," she slowly said, turning to face him. "You are the one who taught me that. Sam, what's happened to you? Why are you so different?"

Sam stared at her, not even acknowledging her hand reaching for his. Reaching out for some comfort from him. "I am not as lax in my training of you as Mr. Giles chooses to be. I will not have you disrespecting me in such a manner no matter the nature of our partnership."

"I meant no disrespect, Mr. Zabuto," she softly said, her hand dropping. Slowly, she turned and walked to the desk, sitting down. Pulling out the notebook, she uncapped the pen and began to write.

'_Tonight, I have become reacquainted with my lonely exile among the living. I am neither living nor am I truly dead for though I walk in a land of shadows and the deceased, I breathe out the essence of life with every step I take. It is the fundamental nature of the Slayer to be alone, with no one at her side as she takes the stand against evil. Even having a fellow sister warrior with her is nothing for the Slayer must stand alone in order to be strong in her battle._

_Truly, these are words that I can no longer believe for they are not true. A Slayer united with another becomes stronger for together they fill up the weaknesses of the other. The world is to vast a place for one warrior to stand alone against the immense darkness that fills it. To be with another is not a deterrent but a strength for it gives one a stronger purpose than merely saying that one is the Chosen One and must fight for duty's sake alone._

_My sister Slayers have fallen this night-I must remember them and fight the fight that they have been denied_.'

A strangled sound escaped Mr. Zabuto's throat as he read her words. "Highly sentimental, would you not say?"

"Perhaps that is so but it is true," Kendra replied, placing her pen down. "These words are how I feel. As this is the chronicle of my life, the words I write down should reflect my own beliefs. They should reflect the knowledge that I have acquired and how it has changed my own perception. I will not fail in my sacred duty not only because it is my duty but because the fight is no longer my own. The Slayer should walk separately from the world but she is not alone. She never has been."

"The Slayer is alone."

"The first Slayer was alone," she agreed with him, "But the Slayer now is not. We reach out across the generations, thousands strong and adding into every life with more strength and knowledge than the previous Slayer ever had. We are united. We are One. There is no changing that. I must see if Buffy has had the same experience. Together we will mourn and be stronger for it."

777

Oz blinked blearily into the weak morning light that poured into the room he was in. For a moment, he was disoriented and weak. And, most disturbingly of all, he didn't know where he was. Memory flooded him when he felt the furry body beside him stir and the glowing eyes of the werewolf opened, looking at him curiously.

Not knowing what else to do, Oz lay there and stared back. Taking a moment, he studied the gorgeous grey wolf before glancing down at the ground. Somehow he knew that he was the subordinate to the older werewolf and he did not want to think of what might happen if anything he did was perceived as a challenge.

He was not exactly up to the strength of his counterpart and the idea of being gored to death did not appeal to him.

The werewolf nuzzled him for a moment before rolling back over. Though he was still alert, it was obvious that the wolf had decided that he was not a threat-and that he was all right with his presence so close to him.

Only then did Oz slowly rise to his feet. Walking over to the drawer, he picked up the key, unlocked it, and pulled out his clothes. Once dressed, he made his way slowly about the room. The disoriented feeling did not abate, though it became easier to bear.

A rap on the door had the wolf instantly up and growling in warning. "It's just me," Sirius called out. "I hope that you are a safe distance away from the door, Oz."

"I am," he replied once he'd moved away from the door again.

The door opened and a large black dog entered the room. The dog and the wolf stared at each other, measuring the other and Oz took the moment to walk out the door, closing it behind him. Harry met him there, a mug of something in his hands. "Professor Snape left this for you. He said it would help."

Nodding, he quickly swallowed the steaming drink, wincing slightly at the bitter taste. Looking back up, he noticed the absolutely fascinated look on Harry's face. The boy quickly averted it, shamed, "Ask. I don't mind."

"What's it like? Being a werewolf," Harry elaborated before he lost his nerve. "I know it's terrible for Professor Lupin but you don't seem affected like he is. And I know that you're a different breed, but it doesn't make sense that it would change that much about you."

"Mindless."

"What?" he gaped at the one word reply.

"Mindless," he repeated. "There is no thinking when I am a wolf. It is all pure instinct wherein I, as a human being, do not exist. All I know is the moon, the hunt, the smell of prey, and I do not have to do anything more than just be."

Harry stared at him, "then why would you want to come back? It sounds so…easy."

"It is easy. That is why I want to come back," Oz replied.

"I don't get it."

Oz shrugged, "That is something that I cannot help you understand for I cannot explain it any other way."

"You could try," Harry argued. But it was only a reflexive action.

"Mr. Osborne, how do you feel?" Professor Snape's voice carried down the hall, entering their conversation. Both teens looked at him, Harry with more than a trace of worry.

"Tired. A little disoriented. Other than that, I feel all right. Thank you for the potion."

Severus waved it off. "It was nothing more than a common courtesy since you are allowing me to use you as a guinea pig. I would advise you to go home and get some rest, the potion will wear off soon enough and you will not wish to pass out from tiredness. Mr. Potter, thank you for giving him the potion."

"Sure," Harry said, startled by this.

"Now if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I must go."

777

Two days later, Severus was in the library. Giles knocked and entered, carrying the book he'd been studying for the past few days with him. Opening it up to the passage, he passed it over for Severus' perusal. He read it, "You have got to be kidding," he flatly denied what he'd read.

Giles' affronted expression spoke volumes "I assure you that I am not. The research clearly indicates that two must defeat your dark wizard now that he has been resurrected from his death for he straddled both ends of death. And that the two must be blood relatives," he added, pointing to that particular passage.

"It cannot be for Mister Potter has no living wizard relatives. His father was an only child, born late in the lives of his parents."

"There is no one?" he asked, pressing him. The Watcher within him twitched, recognizing some secret being withheld. There was something that the professor was not telling him-and this was not the time for him to be secretive. It was not only the wizard's world that was in danger-if Voldemort succeeded, then the mortal realm would perish in his deadly flames.

"No one of any consequence," he reluctantly conceded the last part, compelled by his innate code to be honest with the man.

"Who is it?"

"Does it matter? The person is not a full blood relative."

Giles' head shook. "Blood magic doesn't care about that. You _know_ that as well as I do. All it needs is for the familial line to be present. Whether on the mother's side or the father's, all that is necessary is for it to be family. Would it be possible to reach this person?"

Severus sighed, a pained sigh that came from deep inside. "You already have."

"Oh? Who is…Oh," Giles stopped, understanding the problem. "I see. Mister Potter does not know, does he?" It sounded like a question but the answer was only all too apparent.

"I had no intention of ever telling him. The problems the revelation would cause would be incalculable-especially to Mister Potter."

"Yes, I have heard of your past. But shouldn't he have a say in this matter? Should it not be his choice whether he should know or not? All other ones have been taken from his hands, even his right to be a child. You condemn the headmaster for doing what you, yourself, are doing-making the decisions for him."

The professor was silent, contemplating Giles' words. Contemplating the truth of them, though he hated to hear it so baldly stated.

Harry moved back, confusion and shame on his face. He knew that he shouldn't have listened to their conversation but he was tired of not knowing anything. Of being shut out of every decision that had to do with his prophesized destiny, whatever that really entailed.

Both fled as anger coursed through his veins.

His eyes narrowed, flashing as he contemplated the thought of Snape being his relative. How could he? How could he treat his own…whatever they were to each other as if his very presence angered him?

How could he know the truth about the Dursley's and leave him there to suffer? To spend every single night, beaten into emotional subjection and cry himself to sleep merely because he was 'dirty' in their eyes? To be denied the full extent of his heritage and family, to never really know who he truly was?

How could one man be so spiteful as to do this to an innocent child merely because of a hatred for the man who fathered him?

"_And how, my son, could he protect you if he had been tossed into Azkaban for daring to claim you as his family? As his nephew through me? For other than Albus-who does not actually know this secret, no other would support him. If his claim had been approved, you would've been ostracized by the entire wizarding world because of who he is and was. They might have imprisoned you with him, fearing a new Dark Lord rising inside of you. Had he been ignored, the Death Eaters would've trailed you both for they knew him well. They would have believed his claims of family and sought revenge against him and you, believing that he betrayed them for us. And Voldemort would have won in the end_," Lily calmly said. "_Or you would've turned out as arrogant as Malfoy, puffed up in your own grand reputation, having been raised in your own legend because they granted him custody of you_"

"Why would they kill me?" Harry asked reflexively, before it hit him and he stared in utter disbelief at who was talking to him. "Mom?"

She smiled as she came fully into focus, a faint glow of amber around her. "_You should have listened and believed Sirius when he told you that we are not far from your side. We have always been beside you, though we cannot breach the barrier of life and death as often as we wish to_."

"Then why have you never come before? Why? I needed you," he yelled, inadvertently causing the windows to rattle. "Whenever the Dursley's hurt me, I needed to be held. I needed someone to hold me, to tell me that everything would be all right. I needed to hear that I was loved, that I wasn't a freak. And you never came to me. Why now? Is he more important to you than I am?"

"_No. Never. You are my son, the most precious gift I ever received. You, Harry, are the best thing I ever created. Severus may be my half brother but you are my heart, the delightful treasure of my life. I was not complete until I had you_."

"Then why?" he asked, reaching out to her, on the verge of tears.

"_I…_" Lily stopped, unable to answer.

"Only during times of greatest need can one of the dead who died not fearing their death cross back over. And only one with the purest of souls can do so and not be harmed," Severus quietly answered the question. "Lily."

"_Severus_," she smiled at him happily, relieved to have the answer given to Harry's question before her eyes flashed in the same angry manner her son's had. "_You absolute rotter! How dare you treat my son-__**your nephew**__-so hideously? There is no excuse for your behavior towards him. Absolutely none. How dare you? For I well remember how much you loved him. I remember that it was __**you**__ who saved the both of us from death on the night he was born. I remember that you-__**and only you**__-could soothe his great fears of the darkness and help him to sleep easily when his nightmares came. I remember every time you snuck into that house and held him, rocked him so gently when the night terrors-for these where no nightmares-came so fast and furious upon him as that night was revisited in his mind. The illnesses in him you cured because my horrid sister cared not a wit for him. Your countless acts of anonymous love and devotion for him spread across the years, they are a part of what has made Harry, Harry. So, explain it to me, dearest brother of my heart. Explain to me how you could do what you did to him_."

"Lily," he groaned, seeing Harry's eyes widen and fly to him, questions by the dozens flowing in them as he started to gravitate towards him, begging for some scrap of affection. Of confirmation that what he was hearing was the truth.

"_Don't 'Lily' me, you pompous, arrogant jack arse. I won't have it. You did, you know it and I know it for I witnessed them all, there's no need to hide it anymore. What I want to hear is your justification for treating him so shamefully during his first few years at Hogwarts when you know what it is like to be bullied and hated_," Lily bitingly reminded him of the past.

"I have none to offer you, Lily, that would ever justify my behavior. I am what I am," he simply said.

"_Yes, you are my true family_," she snapped. Severus could see that she valiantly fighting the urge to smack him. Well remembering her powerful right, he was relieved that it was one part she could not bridge. The woman had broken his nose before, he feared what she could accomplish in the mood she was in. "_And I'm still not hearing the why, Severus Snape. I am not hearing it at all. Explain it to me_."

"I can't!" he yelled. "And you know it. What I did had reasons in fear of the Dark Lord, fear of the Death Eaters. Out of the knowledge that the Dark Lord was not truly gone and I had to keep my cover for his return, I knew it would come."

"_All good reason, to be sure_," she mocked him. "_But not the one I'm waiting for-the only true reason for anything you've done_."

"What do you want me to say? That I did it out of love?" he asked, frustrated despair coloring his words. "Is that what you want to hear? That all that I've ever done has been to protect him, to prepare him because I love him? Because he's all that I have left of you?"

"_Yes, because you do_," Lily quietly said, a soft smile crossing her face again. "_Why must you always admit the truth under duress? There is no shame in loving us, Severus, no stigmata attached to what you feel. You, my idiot brother, are allowed to love_."

Harry's eyes had never left Severus, though he did glance at his mom several times, shocked by the tone she used on his professor. Almost appalled by the way she hammered at him, never letting up until she got the answer she wanted. The truth was a bitter pill to swallow but he was, to all intents and purposes, an honest boy.

Snape loved him.

He loved him-and hated himself for it, transferring that hate upon Harry.

His head hurt from trying to figure it out-and his heart ached from the rejection he knew was coming but hadn't wanted it to happen all the same. He couldn't help it, all he wanted was to be loved. It was really the only thing he wanted in life, to feel of some worth to someone.

Even if it was Snape's love, he craved it. Though expecting it, he hadn't wanted that rejection to come at all.

"There is every shame, Lily. You and Harry live in the light, in the purity of love. But I? I have ever dwelt in twisted shadows and hate. As such, I will never be comfortable nor at home where you are. _**Never**_." Paling in pain, he quickly turned and made for the door, shaking with every step. Gritting his teeth, he willed himself to carry on. Voldemort had not been this harsh in calling them in a while. "Har…Potter, see Giles. He has found a way to defeat the Dark Lord."

"Yes, Professor Snape," he replied, voice subdued and quiet in the hallway. Looking up at his mother, he quietly asked, "Will he ever accept me?"

"_Harry, he already has-it is __**himself**__ that he cannot accept. My precious son, Severus has had a brutal past and he was betrayed by one he loved dearly. And he is a hard man to know. An even harder man to love-and he will never yield. But he will always love those whom he has let inside his fortress. Always_."

"I don't understand."

"_They who know darkness intimately as he does cling to the light ever more fervently, never yielding a meter in the fight for they cannot bear to see a world in which darkness has won for they know what it is like. They fight to preserve the light for they understand in ways that we cannot just how beautiful, how worthy it is_."

"Professor Snape is inhuman in that regard. Mrs. Potter is right about him. He never allows himself the luxury to yield-and pushes all the more furiously those he's associated with who he has grown to care about," Blaise dispassionately observed. She did not look that surprised to see the ghost of Lily Potter in the foyer of the mansion. "Does anyone know what's happened to Draco?"

"His father," Harry sneered, "Came for him."

"Again?" Pansy asked, leaning over the banister. "That is not good, not good at all. Blaise, call a meeting. I'll get what we'll need." Descending the stairs, she walked into Snape's lab.

"What's going on?" Harry asked the unusually unsettled Slytherin girl.

Blaise only glanced at him once, "Slytherin business."

"Of course," he bitterly muttered, shaking off his disappointment with effort. "Mom?"

"_You need to see Giles now. I am no longer able to hold onto this mortal realm. Remember love, my sweet one, for it is the only thing that can stop Voldemort. He will be defeated, not by strength of arms or through magic alone, but with the one thing that he cannot understand or comprehend-unconditional love_."

Harry nodded. It was the one thing he understood for it had been love that had saved him all those years ago. "I love you, mom."

"_I love you_," she dropped a ghostly kiss upon his head and then, with a gentle, loving smile, she faded from sight.

But not from his heart.

Walking into the library, Harry inclined his head in greeting, "Professor Snape said you have something to show me?"

End, Part 17


	18. It's Not Humor, It's Survival

654321

Professor Lupin stood in the doorway, anxious for Severus to return to them. Two days had gone by since his last call to Voldemort and he had not returned. There had not even been word from him through the headmaster on when to expect him back. No word on any kind of attack from Voldemort on them or anyone else in the wizarding world.

Worst of all, Harry was becoming a ghost in their midst and no matter what they did, nothing broke through his catatonia.

His Slytherins (for he couldn't think of them as anything but Severus') were deathly quiet, almost frighteningly so. Their silence did not really surprise him, though Professor Vector was deeply unnerved by their behavior, thinking that it meant trouble of some kind. As such, she watched them with deep suspicion that did nothing to help alleviate the situation. Remus knew it meant that they grieved for him, though they did not think he was dead. They worried about Severus-and Draco. After Lucius had unceremoniously retrieved him, they had not heard anything from him since.

All of the classes had been shuffled about to accommodate this change and even that was not enough to shake anyone out of this funk. Even the Gryffindors suffered from his continual absence for all that they had been happy when they first realized that he was gone.

Sirius was worried and not talking about it, though Merlyn knew he'd tried to get to open up, to share his burden with him. All he knew for sure was that it had to with Harry. Something had _definitely_ happened on that final night of the full moon. He just didn't know what. What could've happened to so change everything?

Thinking back upon the full moon and the bizarre twist it had taken for him to share that moment with another werewolf, his thoughts turned to the extraordinary bond that seemed to have formed between him and Oz. He had never felt so connected to any being in his life and he found himself missing the boy.

In an odd way, every time he saw Oz, he wanted to keep him near. He almost thought he loved him, not as a friend though he certainly could be that. Or loved as a fellow brother as he had the one other werewolf he'd once grown close to.

No, it was far more powerful and enduring that than.

It almost made of the love of a parent would have for a child. Oz seemed like a son to him, though had not spent that much time together. And the boy seemed so much more assured, more at peace with himself than Remus could ever hope to be that thinking he was the parent to the boy was an arrogant assumption on his part. If anything, Oz was more like a father to him, gently guiding him along the path to acceptance of all that he was.

Something caught his eye and he found that he had to squint to focus on it. Leaving his post as he realized who it was, he bolted out and arrived barely in time to catch Severus' trembling and falling body before it landed on the ground. The stench of vomit and blood curled his nose up in disgust.

Shoving aside his reaction, he held on to the injured man. "Are you all right?" he asked, feeling idiotic even as the words left his mouth. He could clearly see that the professor was far from all right.

"Initiation," his reply was succinct, mercifully sparing Remus by ignoring the absolute idiocy of his question. "Do you me a favor, Professor Lupin, and find Draco. I fear for him. Tonight he made a very difficult decision."

The desperation in Severus' eyes stopped any comment Remus might have made about how it sounded like he was begging him to do this-if he were that kind of man that is. But it could not stifle his worry over the man. "What of you?"

"I'll take him," Harry quietly answered for him, looking no stronger that Severus did in that moment. His arm went around his professor and uncle, noting the way he winced and gritted his teeth, though he remained stoic before them. "Find Draco," he added, a soft pleading sound there.

The truth of what happened these past few nights was in the boy's voice, as well as pity and compassion for the other boy, and he shivered to hear it. To realize what it meant. Remus had the distinct impression that he knew what happened, though Harry's occlumency shields had become almost impenetrable. So for him to drop them and find out what was going on, it must have been terrible. Especially to know what it had cost Draco to make that choice.

Still he was not sure he should leave them alone out here-especially when the demons would be out. Severus was in no condition to fight anyone. Harry was ill prepared to defend anyone from an attack, much less support Snape into the house. Yet he knew that Severus would not have asked him to go after Draco if didn't feel it was imperative.

"Please, Remus," Severus whispered, voice almost breaking on the plea.

"I've got them," Sirius' voice seemed to boom out from behind them-even Remus was startled by it. With a gentleness that seemed foreign to him, he pushed him away and took the full burden of Severus and Harry upon himself.

"All right. I'll see you when we return," he said, unwilling to accept any other alternative for his search. It was not only for them, he needed to hear his own voice promising success, though he privately wondered if that was possible.

Willow stood with Hermione and Amy, "This does not bode well," she murmured, resting her chin on her hand as she watched Remus disappear and the trio stumble inside the house.

"Adding visions to your already impressive list of talents?" Amy teased, though she also felt what Willow did. There was an unusual amount of magical energy in the air-and not all of it was good.

"Of course-how else am I to join the psychic network?" she replied, glancing up at her friend, a slight smile there.

Amy snorted, wrapping her arms about her waist, shivering just a little. "Good to know that you have some kind of career in mind that will utilize all of your talents. And here I was thinking that you would have some kind of important job."

Hermione stared at them, shaking her head. "And I thought that it was the British who had the odd sense of humor."

"It's not humor-it's survival," Willow shrugged. "Ron, are you all right?"

"Harry's bed sheets are drenched in blood," he replied, ghostly face showing off a garish light in the darkness offset by his vibrant colored hair. "This had never happened before."

"We need to tell Professor Snape," Hermione said, straightening up instantly, ready to get down to business.

"What can he do looking like that?"

"Well, we can't tell…our driver," she retorted, almost angrily.

"Why not?" Blaise asked, almost indolently. "We all know he is Sirius Black-and that he is innocent of the crimes he was accused of. Even if he's not totally spotless, he is no follower of the Dark Lord."

"How do you?" Hermione started and stopped, staring at the other girl. Where had she come from?

Blaise looked at them, an eyebrow raised sardonically. "There are no secrets in Slytherin for there is no need." There were only a few secrets that the Slytherins were unaware of, most concerning Professor Snape, and they respected his need for that secrecy.

777

Remus rounded the corner, drawn to the epicenter of more unbalanced magic than he'd ever felt concentrated in one place at one time. Hearing with a feeling of unmitigated fear Draco's impassioned words when he saw him arrive on the scene, his stomach twisted unpleasantly as he thought of the repercussions of tonight's events. And he realized something terrifying. It wasn't the boy's pride speaking, nor was it arrogance.

The boy wanted to die-badly. This was not something Remus was prepared to deal with. He didn't know what to _do_ for the boy. In all of his years, he'd never come across anyone who was genuinely suicidal.

"Sorry, Draco. You're going to have help whether you want it or not." There was a hardness in his voice that he never used. It was almost foreign to him but there was something that said that Draco would only respond to it. Right now, compassion was not something he needed, this he could tell when he saw the hidden relief in the boy's eyes.

Wand out, he aimed a spell and let it fly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Buffy took out a demon with practiced detachment and ease. It did not surprise him to see Kendra join her. The only thing he wondered is what had taken her so long to arrive.

Remus fought his way to Draco's side, knowing that he needed to be right there. Focusing on the mechanical way he protected himself, he internally shook his head. One could not call what he was doing _defense_. The boy's arm dropped suddenly, the wand rolling to the side as he dropped to the ground, almost as if someone had cut the strings holding him up.

Casting a quick spell of protection about them, Remus knelt by his side. Reaching out, he gently rested a hand upon the lax shoulder, not surprised when he jerked it away. It did not stop him from trying again. And again for the boy needed to know that he was not alone-that he was not going to be left alone.

Time and time again, he reached out and was rebuffed constantly.

Yet, he did not give up. He could not, this was far too important. Doing nothing more than reach out, he waiting for the fallen youth to make his decisive move. To make up his mind as to what he really wanted to do.

Finally-_finally_-he saw it.

The infinitesimal shift in the boy that let Remus know which was he'd go. Still, when it happened, he was stunned that it happened. Stunned that he'd been right about what the boy would decide to do.

Remus' hand reached out, gently touching before clenching upon the bone, feeling the shake as the boy flung himself into his arms. Sobs tore through Draco, shaking the both of them under the torrential downpour.

Instantly, his arms closed about him, pulling him closer, vowing silently to keep him safe. As much as he wished to say something to him, he knew there was nothing he could say.

His words were not what the boy needed.

The young man became leaden in his arms. He was finally spent of his emotions and exhausted by all that had occurred. Remus understood in that moment that Draco had placed him quite a unique position of trust.

It felt incredibly odd to be so trusted by him.

Buffy approached them slowly, trying not to startle them. "Do you need help?" she asked, feeling guilty for her words earlier. It was plainly obvious that the boy had been through some kind of emotional hell and she'd not been much of a help to him. True, she hadn't known and he'd never given any kind of sign about it.

Still, that did not excuse her behavior.

Remus nearly jumped, having forgotten that the Slayer was even there. Looking around, he noticed that the demons had gone, though Kendra stood at attention, every line of her body still ready for the fight. Every line of her body spoke of her ability to fight. Nodding slowly, he found his voice. "Would help me stand up and take him home?"

"Would you like me to carry him?" she asked, tilting her head to the side as she studied the both of them. Though she knew from personal experience a werewolf's strength, the professor did not look like he could walk that far carrying Draco.

"No," Remus shook his head. Feeling her arms grasp him and haul him to his feet, an irrational fear passed through him with quicksilver speed. She was the Slayer-and he was defenseless. Would she kill him? Would they both? This thought came as another arm gripped his other side.

The two Slayers paid no mind to his sudden stiffness. Kendra, unlike Buffy, had been expecting it. She resolved to explain everything to the blonde as it appeared that no one had bothered to do so. Shaking her head, she couldn't quite figure out why they did not. It seemed to be an unwise decision to leave her uneducated about the relationship between werewolves and slayers.

As one, they easily supported the two of them until he was steady on his feet and Draco was secure in his hold. "Thank you," he shakily said, feeling oddly trapped between them.

They stepped back, Buffy finally becoming truly aware of his tension. She glanced at Kendra and knew that she could ask her and get answers-at last.

"The both of you may have need of these later," Kendra said, bending down to retrieve both wands. She placed them into his side pocket before striding off. "We should take you home now. There is something I wish to discuss with Professor Snape."

"He may not be in the mood to discuss anything with anyone," he warned, following her and mindful of how Severus had looked before he left. Though he warned them, he did not want to give away the true state of Severus' condition. It wasn't his right, nor was this the best place to announce the man's abused status.

Buffy snorted as she brought up the rear, "Is he ever?"

"Sometimes," Remus replied and fell silent. It felt incredibly disloyal to allow anyone to disparage Severus considering all that he went through to save them. Especially when he knew that the anger was part of his mask-a mask that he needed to keep sane.

"If you say so," she shrugged, plainly not believing. They arrived at the house, finding it in utter madness.

"Snape! I demand you give me my son!"

"For the last time, I do not have him. I do not know where he is, Lucius." Severus' voice was bone chillingly cold-and weary. The listeners were struck by the sound. "And if I did, I would not simply hand him over to you as though he was an object with no free will. Draco made his choice. You would be wise to accept it as final as he made it quite clear that it was. He wants nothing to do with Voldemort."

"I have convinced our gracious lord and master that he is under a spell as a result of his time in this terrible country. Kindly he had agreed to give Draco another chance," he sounded impossibly smug.

"Lucius, Voldemort is not giving him another chance and you are an idiotic fool if you believe otherwise."

"I think not," he retorted.

Severus' patience had finally snapped and his words whipped into Lucius with cutting brutality, with no pity for the man he considered an old friend and ally. "Your son will be made a sacrifice for the Dark Lord-as will you. Voldemort is neither kind nor is he a fool. He is not generous in any sense of the word. The only safe one is your wife because he is not fool enough to go after her. He would never go up against a witch of her caliber, knowing that she is incredibly strong. Narcissa Black Malfoy-like your son-is a witch of pure power, undiluted by his touch. It is you who is the blight and weak link. You have debased yourself so completely that what little magical power you have is corrupted and corroded. Lucius Malfoy, you are not as you once were. In fact, you are less than you should be. You would do well to learn from your son's example, not sacrifice him upon the alter of one who will not support you."

"Showing your true loyalty at last?" his voice was shaky but grew in strength with every word he spoke, knowing the truth. It was so plain, he didn't know how he had missed it before. As secretive as Snape was, even he couldn't hide forever. In that moment, Lucius finally saw him for what he was-Dumbledore's man to the very end. "Loyal to Dumbledore, perhaps I should take you to the Dark Lord instead of my son."

"I accept."

"_**NO**_!" Harry's cry pierced the air, shattering the spell that had them enthralled. There was firmness and terror in his voice as it left him. "I won't have it, uncle."

Blinking in shock at the words, Remus looked at Buffy and Kendra. Both girls looked as shocked as he was-if not more so judging from Kendra's expression. Thinking back, he wondered how it was that he could have missed such a connection.

There had always been little signs from Lily that the relationship between her and Severus was deeper than anyone had thought-and not in a romantic fashion as James had often feared. It was not as simple as that, it couldn't be. After all, her reaction to being called a mudblood by him hadn't been as extreme, as volatile as it had been when others would use that hated word to describe her.

He'd never put much stock in the rumors that Severus had been in love with her. But he could not deny what he had smelled. The scent of love and pure devotion had curled his nose pleasantly whenever the two had been around each other. It sung between them, tying them to each other.

Now, its presence made perfect sense. He wondered if James knew, if Sirius knew the truth about them. Hurt flared inside of him as he thought about it. It was so obvious to him. They had known-and they didn't tell him about it. That his best friends had known and kept it from him twisted his heart.

They had not trusted him with this as they had not trusted him to be able to keep their secret safe. It cut deep inside, reopening a wound that had never been addressed when Sirius had gotten free and explained to him why Peter was chosen to be the secret keeper. While his friend was apologetic, he never _had_ apologized for his belief that Remus would betray them just because he was a werewolf.

His eyes closed, unable to take this revelation on top of everything else. What else had his friends kept from him? Shifting Draco in his arms, he tried to swallow back the anger and sorrow he felt. There was no way he could change it now, so what was the point in dwelling upon it needlessly?

"Uncle?" Lucius' voice purred on the word, a malicious smile forming on his face. A laugh of true satisfaction escaped him as he realized that he had Severus right where he wanted him-totally and completely at his mercy. It was a rare position for one to be in for Snape never let himself be trapped.

And that it was _his own nephew_ who had done it made it that much headier, more hilarious for him. "Harry Potter, the enemy of Lord Voldemort is your nephew? The one that you loved you so much, you have given everything for him. Oh, how deliciously ironic. I wonder how our Master will feel upon hearing this? I wonder what he'll do to you?"

Harry's eyes flashed dark with the deepest loathing as they focused on the blond in the front yard. Storing Lucius' words for later study, he concentrated on the moment for it was more important. In that moment, he knew what it meant to be blind with rage. But he would not yield to that anger, though he badly wanted to.

With effort, he forced himself to swallow it back. Giving into his anger would only give Malfoy power over him-power he didn't want him to have. Weirdly enough, it reminded him of being in potions, having Snape pick on him mercilessly. He wondered if control of his emotions was what he'd been trying to teach him all this time. It wouldn't surprise him if it was.

In perfect mimicry of his uncle, he coldly spoke. "He'll do nothing."

"Poor, naïve child," Lucius' voice was sickeningly sweet with false sympathy. "Of course he will. He is not forgiving as Severus said."

"Neither am I," Harry flatly declared. His eyes were hard as flints as they stared into the grey ones beneath him. "He won't do anything because you won't tell him."

"I won't?" he mockingly questioned, ignoring the dread that began to fill him as he looked up at the boy. _No_, he silently corrected, _young man. This was no boy who stood before him for all that he appeared to be one_.

"No," Harry firmly said. "You won't even think about it, I will know if you think of our familial relationship. I will hurt you in ways that your piddling Dark Lord would never consider-and yes, I do mean that. As much as you profess Voldemort's great strength, I am that much stronger. I will take him down."

The dead intent was there. He carried on before Lucius could form a word of rebuttal, if he could have found the words at all. "If I were you, I would stay far away from him from now on. I am not warning you for your own sake. I personally could care less if you were killed-or if you rotted away in Azkaban after the dementors have taken away your soul. I am warning you for Uncle Severus' sake alone. He still thinks of you a friend. If I meet you in battle, you will die. That is not me giving into Gryffindor bravado-it is the complete truth. You will die."

His tone and inflection-the very _**look**_ about him-was pure Severus Snape. Though Harry was bright with love and light that was utterly at odds with the darkness and harshness that had always been a part of Severus' life, it was all there for any who cared to look. One did not even have to look deeply to see the connection between the two of them. Any doubts of the validity of his claim to be kindred to the dark professor died in that moment.

As did his doubts of the young man's true power.

Lucius could not even try to convince himself the young man was just bluffing. He could not even say it. The words died upon his tongue, unsaid, tasting of pure ash as they lay there. In every line of his face, in the very way he held himself-it was all there. If he did not listen to his warnings, the cost for him would be fatal.

The boy would kill him without hesitation or doubt.

"You know where to go for safety, Lucius," Severus quietly said, coming to stand behind his nephew at last. The image they created did not escape his notice. A dark shadow cast upon the bright light of the boy.

And yet, the two together looked completely natural. Though his voice had become completely neutral, his eyes gave him away, almost begging his old friend to think about this though he knew that he would not listen to him. "If I were you, I would take this chance. You will not get another one-from me or from Harry."

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Mayor Wilkins nodded thoughtfully, listening to Allan's report, frowning slightly. "I see. It seems that things are not well among Lord Voldemort's followers. How troublesome," he said at last, slightly troubled by what he heard. It was annoying to hear that there was such division among the man who offered his aid to him. Humans with their constant emotional shifts made conducting reasonable business with them almost impossible. They had a way of totally throwing emotion into the works that destroyed any chance they had of success.

Even those humans at Wolfram and Hart had to become more demon than human in order for them to work there. "Allan, arrange for a meeting with this Professor Snape. I wish to hear from him how things truly are."

"Yes, sir," Allan turned and left the room. The image of the dark professor flashed in his mind and he shivered. Somehow, he had a feeling that with this man, the mayor had bitten off more than he could truly handle.

As for the mayor, he felt some unease at the thought of meeting Severus Snape. He'd heard much about the man and had seen a few pictures of him. There was something about him that spoke of deep power, far stronger than any he'd ever come across-except in one. That young Rosenberg girl felt much the same as this professor did.

And that was another problem to be dealt with.

Rosenberg…something would have to be done about that girl and her friends. It was bad enough that she was allied with the slayer. It had only made her a minor annoyance. A smart girl, he could not deny it. But nothing along the lines of a true threat to his position, even the watcher was not that.

Together, the two made for a challenge, something he'd looked forward to.

Now, things had changed. She was living with the Hogwarts students and the changes in her were quite dramatic. The last time he'd seen her, her powers had barely awakened. They were asleep, even that Madison girl had more power showing than Rosenberg had.

Now though, they were growing exponentially. Growing with such mature depth that it was natural, not brought about through manipulation or tragedy. If something wasn't done about her soon, things would come undone for him.

At the moment, he couldn't visualize what part she could possibly play in his downfall.

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The next morning, Draco awoke with a splitting headache and no memory of how he'd gotten back to the mansion. "Quite a display you put on last night, Mr. Malfoy. I suggest that you refrain from doing so again. You were lucky this time that no true harm came to you," the professor said coldly. "Drink this, it will settle your stomach and head."

"What happened?" he managed to croak out after he drank it down. The taste left something to be desired but it cleared his head and he groaned, wishing to sink into the bed and disappear as memory flooded him. "Never mind, I remember."

"Then I trust you will also memorize my words and follow them. I do not speak lightly. Last night, you made a choice-and it will haunt you until Voldemort and his followers are defeated for good. Deal with it with more maturity in the future. You will not always have an able rescuer and I would hate for you to die because you made an idiotic decision regarding how to deal with your tribulations and trials."

"Professor Snape, is Draco like us? Is that why all that stuff happened last night?" Willow hesitantly asked from the doorway behind him. "Why Voldemort was going to grant him another chance to serve him?"

"No," Professor Snape curtly answered. "What he did was a form of wandless magic-and he tapped directly into the Hellmouth to do so. Rosenberg, did I not instruct you to begin my class and monitor them until I arrived?"

"You did, sir," she answered.

"Then why are you not doing so?" he asked, voice deceptively calm.

"Professor Vector kicked me out, said that it was not your decision right now. So, I came to get you," she shrugged, hiding her shiver of fright.

"She said that?" he silkily questioned, pushing past her on his way out the door. "Draco, I expect you to be in class within five minutes. Come along, Rosenberg."

After a moment more of simply lying in bed, Draco rose and began to dress slowly. Making his way down the hall, he winced in pain as each step jarred him. Any expression of pain was gone when he entered the potions classroom, sitting next to Blaise.

Snape was already in full lecture mode.

Knowing better than to expect leniency from his professor, he quickly flipped to the chapter and skimmed it until he found where Snape was and focused on him. With relief, he could answer with clarity and precision the questions fired at him-the same could not be said of the others in the classroom, save Rosenberg, Granger, and, surprisingly, Potter.

In other words, things were back to normal.

Explaining things to his friends, he spared no detail of his ordeal. His fellow Slytherins (and the few Gryffindors who dared to eavesdrop on their conversation) needed to know of the very real danger the Hellmouth presented to them. "Also, I have come to the conclusion that father will not trouble me further. I am not sure how mother will react as she told me to follow him, I did not." There was sadness hidden in his voice that only a few picked up on.

He was also silent about what Potter had revealed, though he was pretty sure that everyone there knew about it. Potter had been far from quiet about his declaration. Still, it was not his place to make the actual announcement. If Snape wanted them to know about it he-and he alone-would tell them.

End, Part 18


	19. Treason Speaks With A Silver Tongue

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"Willow!" Buffy squealed, delighted to see her as she walked onto the campus at lunchtime. A part of her was actually surprised to see her friend, though she knew she shouldn't be. This was Willow after all. Death was probably the only thing that would stop her from coming to school. Then again, this being the Hellmouth, Buffy wasn't so sure that even death would stop her. "How did you end up missing two days worth of classes without being sick?"

The redhead shrugged, "All I know is that Professor Lupin told me that I needed to be in their classes as often as I could be. They had cleared it with Snyder earlier this week. It was odd not being with you guys first thing. Did you get my homework?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, "You miss classes and all you can think about is homework?"

"What else is there to think about?"

"Will, we have _got_ to get you a life. We really do," Buffy sighed, linking arms as they entered the library. "Giles, tell Willow that there's more to life than school and homework."

"What?" he asked, coming out of his office, a book in his hand. His finger held his in place as he looked at them curiously.

"You guys are completely hopeless," she sighed again. "What am I to do with you?"

"Sigh in exasperation but adore us anyway?" Willow asked teasingly.

"Willow, are you free on Saturday?" Giles asked, putting his book down to join them.

"As far as I know, why?" she sat down, resting her chin on her hand.

"Certain arrangements have been made between the school and your new teachers; you are to take all of your final exams as soon as possible. Professors Lupin and Snape believe that with the way things are going, you need to be a full time student of theirs. Principal Snyder has reluctantly agreed to allow this as he believes it will reflect well upon his reputation. I shall administer the tests, which means…"

"I've got to study!" Willow shrieked, jumping up. The chair clattered to the floor, unnoticed by them. "Saturday is two days from now and I've got almost no time to prepare for this. What if I get sick? What if I don't know the information? What if I fail? What if the school burns down? Or the world ends at Voldemort's hands?"

"Breathe, Will," Xander said. "What's going on?"

"Tests. Earlier tests. More schooling outside of school," Willow started again.

"Again with the stop and breathe thing, Will," Xander commented, picking up the downed chair so that he could sit down next to them, looking concerned. "There's no need to make yourself sick explaining things to me. So, someone who can talk and breathe at the same time want to tell me what's going on with the Willster?"

"Willow's taking the finals on Saturday. After that, she's going to be a full time student over at the mansion. Which reminds me, is Harry really Snape's nephew?" Buffy asked, looking between Willow and Giles. "Because he sounded pretty darned sure that he was last night."

"I doubt he would've said it if it wasn't true," Willow shrugged. "But no one's said anything to the rest of us about it. Ron and Hermione seemed a bit startled to hear it."

"Professor Snape told him?"

"You knew about this and didn't tell us?" Xander asked.

"It was not my secret to share. If it had been, I would have said something. I learned my lesson about keeping dangerous secrets already. It is not a lesson I would care to repeat any time soon." The afternoon bell range and they left Giles to figure out what the revelation meant to them in the long run.

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Willow sat in her chemistry class, trying to concentrate on the lesson but her thoughts kept swirling around. Why were the professors being so insistent upon this now? Why? Was there some thing she was not seeing when it came to the wizarding world? Or was it something more sinister, like that Voldemort guy and his delusional belief that she was Lily Potter come back from the grave.

She shivered, not liking that thought at all.

Xander nudged her gently, jolting her out of her thoughts. Looking at him, he jerked his head towards the teacher. She seemed to be getting ready to ask questions of the class. The board was now covered entirely in notes. Quickly, Willow nodded in thanks and wrote them as quickly as she could.

The bell rang at last and they packed their stuff up with a feeling of relief. "Willow, stay behind for a moment," her voice carried over the sound of the students moving. "I have some things for you to review for Saturday. I hope you appreciate the effort that has gone into this and will do your best."

"I do," Willow said, coming closer. "Thank you for offering me this opportunity."

Xander was waiting for her outside, "You okay?"

She shrugged, "Not really. I don't like being centered out like this. It's different than when I have to teach Ms. Calendar's class...do you think I'm still going to be doing that?"

"Did Giles say you wouldn't?" he asked, steering her around the milling bodies.

"No," she slowly replied, blushing. "I was babbling so much after he told me that it never crossed my mind to ask."

"Well, if Snape had anything to do with it, I would have to say you won't be teaching. My heart bleeds for Snyder, now he'll have to pay someone to do it instead of having you teach for free. Doesn't Snape want you to be completely focused on your tasks?"

"Is it true what they're saying?" Cordy suddenly demanded as she walked over. "You're going to test early?"

"Yeah-but I can't help any of you guys out. I've been told that my tests will be harder than what you guys get, and totally different. Synder thinks I'll be enabling you to cheat if the tests are the same."

"As if I would stoop that low," Cordy sniffed dismissively. "Hey! I was walking here." The warning bell sounded as they reached their lockers. Switching books, they made a dash for the last class of the day.

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Professor Snape left his class, deep in thought. Harry walked by his side, glaring at those who looked their way until their eyes dropped. Everything that he wanted to say, he'd said the night before to Lucius. Until he knew the whole story, he was not going to feed into any of the rumors floating around the mansion. And he knew full well that there were some rather outrageous tales being spread about him and his uncle.

But there was one thing he _**had**_ to know. "Sir, how come Aunt Petunia never mentioned you whenever she talked about my mum's friends? She knew of Sirius and Remus."

His eyes slowly slid towards Harry, as though he was just now becoming aware of the presence at his side. Slowly, his mind registered the question, "Petunia Dursley does not know that I exist. If she ever thought about the one time we met, she would no longer be able to function as our one and only meeting was at a Death Eater revel."

"What?" he whispered, voice breaking under the strain of keeping it even. Though he did not particularly care for his relatives, he'd never wish any harm upon them-especially harm from the Death Eaters. This was no laughing matter. If Severus was right, then may be his aunt had more reason to be afraid of him and the rest of the wizarding world than he thought. Her reasons may not stem from jealously, but true fear.

Snape's lips curled disdainfully, "Up until a certain point, your aunt was more tolerant of your mother and her outlandish _quirks_. Make no mistake, she had quite a few of them. But the more Lily learned of magic and her powers, the less Petunia tolerated her. When your parents disappeared, Voldemort believed that your aunt would know where they had gone off to. At the time, it never occurred to him that they might be living in secret. Pettigrew, for whatever reason, had decided to keep this knowledge to himself. Your Aunt Petunia is a weak minded fool and did not hold up under interrogation-he did not even have to torture her for what he wanted. I did not know about this until Lily called me, asking if I would check up on her. Your mother was concerned and loved her sister until the very end. Had I known that he would be fool enough to go after Petunia, I would have warned the Headmaster. As it was, my cover was nearly broken when I rescued her. Luckily, her guards were Crabbe and Goyle. They are highly superstitious and easy to startle with cheap illusions."

"Why didn't you just call the aurors?"

"She could've been used as a shield-Malfoy would not have hesitated to do so. Or she could've been killed. Aurors, like Death Eaters, are notoriously spell happy," he sneered derisively, "Almost sloppily so. They use their wands at the slightest of provocations."

"You don't seem to place much faith in them," Harry observed.

"I have little faith in people who choose to look at circumstantial evidence and take it to be truth. You would do wise to start looking beyond what your eyes see and use all of your faculties to determine what is truth and what is a lie. Not everything is what it seems to be at first glance or even a second one," he could not help teaching him. "Though I am highly disdainful of Voldemort as he is now, he still possesses the knowledge from before. He studied everything he came across from every angle he could. That is what makes him so formidable, so threatening even now. He knows what he's doing to the nth degree. Yet, there are gaps in his knowledge, things that he simply does not know or understand. Things that you know instinctively through your experiences-like pure love."

Harry snorted, "I only know what people have told me. I do not remember love."

"You speak of the Dursley's," he said, sneering at the name. It was more than obvious that his dislike of the family had nothing to do with their muggle status and everything to do with the way they treated Harry. "I do not. But tell me of your childhood."

"They hardly wasted any time spoiling me, sir. All of that attention when to the more deserving Dudley," he spoke bitterly. "I never had a real room until my Hogwarts letter arrived, letting them know that they knew that I slept in the cupboard under the stairs. I never had a real Christmas until I came to Hogwarts."

His lips compressed tightly, "I'm beginning to regret saving that waste of air that you must refer to as your aunt. But then, death is much too good for one such as her. As for not remembering lover, that does not matter. You were born of love and honesty. Love is in your very marrow, it is a part of your heart and soul. Voldemort was born of deceived love, something that is inside of him. As a result, it is all he can ever truly know and understand. We are different than other beings, Harry, because of our magic. Love-or hate's-existence in the very moment of conception is woven into the very magical heart of every being, even squibs. There are a few exceptions to the rule of course, the Slayers and Miss. Rosenberg, are prime examples of this. But by and large, we are what is in the hearts' of our progenitors when they are together in that most intimate of expressions.

"If there is love and trust, honesty and devotion there, when all defenses are down and every vulnerability is exposed and a child is created, that child will have light and love woven into its very essence. If hate or deception, fear or anger, is present at that time, the child conceived of such a union will rarely-if ever-understand the power of love and goodness because it will not be a part of its soul. They will see it as a weakness, something to twist and destroy. In the end, while our decisions truly are what makes us who we are, what has gone into the very heart of us also has a strong hand in it. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"You called me Harry," he softly said, awed. He flushed, aware from the way Severus was looking at him that his name was not the point. Still, it was a thrill to hear it, "Sorry. I think I understand what you're saying. Is that why you believe that you have no hope?"

"Though is do not see that it is any business of yours, no, that is not why. My parents married out of necessity, there was neither love nor hate between them. They tolerated each other at best, ignored each other at worst. Both had something to gain from this union. My father was a muggle born of some considerable wealth. There was a clause in his father's will that he could not touch any of it unless he was married. Having been raised in extreme comfort, you can imagine that he was not prepared to give it up. He was given a year to find and marry someone or the fortune would go to charity.

"As for my mother, she did not wish to remain at home as she knew would be expected of her after she graduated from Hogwarts. My grandfather was a traditional pureblood wizard who took things to the extreme. She was not allowed to go to school until Headmaster Dippet assured him that she would be kept away from the students and any ideas that may mislead her away from the path grandfather wished her to travel. The man made unwarranted concessions for grandfather, did things that my mother believes almost completely destroyed her abilities to be a witch of the highest caliber. The only way out was marriage. I was just a by product of a marriage of convenience. Being a convenience for someone does little to balance one's soul and magic, my magic is not whole. I am not a whole being. I am beyond light and dark, born to be eternally grey."

"But you're not!" Harry protested. "Magic can be made whole, a person does not have to stay in the same place. We change, our actions change us. You're like Willow, an exception to the rule-and you love me. Deny it if you have to, but you do-I can feel it, watching over me and protecting me. It has been there all my life. And I love you. I might not particularly like you but I have learned to love you."

Snape was gob smacked. He was honestly gob smacked-this was almost the exact same conversation he had with Lily, minus the left hook and hug. Shaking his head, he regained his composure and cleared his throat, "You become more like your mother with every day that passes."

"Yeah, about that-how can you be my uncle? Especially since Petunia doesn't know about you? It doesn't make sense."

His eyes closed and he pinched the bridge of his nose. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts as he was trying to gather them, something he found irritating. But a part of him was relieved. This was not the kind of conversation he wished to pursue in the hall where anyone could hear them, though he knew that he couldn't put it off for much longer. Letting out a long sigh at last, he came to a conclusion-the only one really. Opening his eyes, he looked straight at Harry, "That is a long story better given in the privacy of my lab."

"Professor Snape?" Blaise said, tentatively interrupting them. She _really_ didn't want to interrupt them but the visitor was making her uncomfortable. There was something about him that just itched at her Slytherin nerves, telling her that this man was not quite right.

"What?" his voice coldly echoed down the hall to where his student was. He knew that Harry would not relent, would press him for more information, but he also knew that he would never again be so open, so free with his time and words. Nephew or not, this was an invasion of his privacy-one that even Headmaster Dumbledore knew nothing about. He would not be at all surprised if James Potter himself was in the dark about his wife's family.

"There's a man to see you," she finally said. "I think his name is Allan Finch."

Harry and Severus both stared at her, shock plainly written on Harry's face. "The Mayor's man? What does he want with you?"

"I don't know. It's too early for Voldemort to know about Lucius' defection, if he listened to your warnings at all. Tell him I will meet him in the parlor in a few minutes," Severus went on, forestalling Harry's words quickly. "We'll talk about this later, Harry, I promise."

Harry snort, but refrained from saying anything else. For the first time, he was going to trust what Severus said. "Do you think Malfoy listened? Because I meant what I said. If he stands against us, I will kill him. He may be your friend, but he chose the wrong side."

"And you no longer believe that I will choose to stand against you come the final battle?" he asked, his eyebrow raised in query.

"I can't say that I totally believe that you are on our side-I would like to believe that I am no fool," he slightly smiled. "But I would also like to think that I've grown up just a bit. I don't think you'll switch sides on us, that is not your way. If you did the easy thing, you would not be in the position you are in now."

"Like I said before," he replied, not curbing his hand as it gently rested on Harry's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "You are growing up like your mother. She would be so proud of the young man you are becoming, Harry."

"Thanks," he said, even as he watched the mask slowly descend over his uncle's face, resolving to destroy the damn thing if it was the last thing he ever did. He refused to be shut out again. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I shall be fine but I shall remain as wary as ever," he replied, removing his hand.

"Would it be all right if Hermione, Ron, and I went to Sunnydale High to see Giles? There's a few things I want to ask him about that reference he found."

He frowned, but could think of no real reason to refuse the request. Harry was not asking to go alone and had come far, Severus knew the boy never left his wand behind. "Take Black with you-and ask him to tell you about our visit from Pettigrew. There are some things that we learned from him that would be in your best interests to know. Do not forget your wand and make sure your friends take theirs."

"Thanks," he said again, watching Severus walk into the parlor. At the back of his mind, he wondered if Black would tell him anything. Even though his uncle told him to, one could never tell what his godfather would decide to do. While he agreed that Harry should know what everyone else did, his protective instincts kicked in at the weirdest times.

Severus paused at the open door, staring at the rather normal looking man with detached curiosity. The man's shoulders twitched, sensing him there, and he wrung him hands, revealing his unease at the position he found himself in. The professor wondered just why the man was there. It was obvious that he didn't want to be there. That he, in fact, was not happy nor did he trust any of them.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting but when you arrive unannounced at what happens to be a fully functioning schooling area, you will have to wait until we are able to assist you. Having said that, I must ask what you are doing here? I do not believe that we have violated the agreement we made before we arrived." He paused, a sneer crossing his face as the man visibly started out of his skin, totally ill at ease with him, "And do not waste my time by trying to lie to me. Not only will you be unconvincing, I do not wish to play the part of fool for your amusement."

"Mayor Wilkins wants to see you," he stammered, sounding to much like Pettigrew had earlier for Severus' comfort.

"And you could not have called to leave this message?" his question came as he crossed his arms across his chest, fixing him with a stare. "You do know about a handy little invention made by your Alexander Graham Bell called the telephone, right? I do believe we left our number with you."

Flushing, he looked down at his hands, as though they held the answers he wanted. "He wanted me to make sure that you actually received the message in good time-especially since he wishes to see you at the earliest opportunity."

"Well, then, we shouldn't keep him waiting any longer, should we?" he silkily asked, "After you, Mr. Finch."

Mayor Wilkins looked up as they entered and his blood froze in his veins-absolutely froze at the sight of Severus Snape. Over the course of his long life, he'd dealt with wizards and witches of all types-as well as other beings of great power. None of them had ever exuded so much raw power and authority, mixed in with sheer audacious ability before.

After dealing with Lucius Malfoy, he thought he knew what to expect.

He was wrong. Malfoy was a boy, a child, compared to this man-for a man he was. There was no innocence, no charm about Severus Snape that lulled anyone into thinking that he was harmless. The man wore his power as easily as he wore his robes.

Pictures and videos did not capture his raw, jaded authority at all. In every aspect, this was a man of power who controlled it as easily as he breathed.

"I take it you have an actual reason for wanting me to be here other than to gape at me like an immature, unwashed schoolboy caught our after hours," Severus' voice poured into the room, smooth and easy.

Recalled to himself by the sound, he nodded. "Allan, leave us for now. There are matters that need your attention." His orders allowed for no disagreement and Allan was only all to willing to comply. The door closed behind him with a final sounding snap to it. "Would you care to have a seat, Professor Snape?"

An elegant eyebrow rose at the near order. Clearly, this was not to be merely a social call relating to how they were doing. Folding his hands in his lap, he waited for Mayor Wilkins to begin, making no sound of objection.

"I see that there is no point in pretending to a civil conversation then, is there?" he asked, continuing to speak, knowing that the professor would know it for the rhetoric it was. "What is the true status of Voldemort's followers? Of his claims to power beyond anything that I have ever known? Of his ability to grant me my dream? None of this will go anywhere beyond this office, Professor Snape, but I wish to know the truth about the man that I am dealing with."

"And you think I will tell you?" he idly asked, leaning back slightly. His black eyes never left the Mayor's face, giving the man the odd impression that Snape was reading his mind and soul-finding neither to be worth pursuit of any kind.

"I don't believe that you would outright lie," he finally answered after swallowing back his rising fear. Even if Snape was trying to read his mind, he would not be able to. Mayor Wilkins had spent _years_ perfecting his mental shields-almost a century to be exact. He did not make mistakes, nor had he ever faltered before. "It doesn't seem to be the kind of thing a man like you would do. Omit the truth or obfuscate the details, perhaps-but you would never outright lie to someone."

Snape was slightly impressed by the man's observations but worried that they had been under that much scrutiny. They'd been watched so closely the Mayor could speak with some authority about Snape's own character. His face was impassive. "I see," there was no betraying quiver in his voice. "What you ask of me has no easy answer. Voldemort has a high amount of followers, each with their own strengths and weaknesses. Bellatrix Lestrange is one whose fanatical devotion to him alone makes her a powerful threat. But she is also a strong witch with deep convictions and madness. On the other hand, Goyle only has brute strength and blunt spells to offer. In a quick fight, both are of use. But prolonged attempts to use them leads to fallout and burn up. To determine his followers' strength based on the followers themselves is a chancy thing. He has, as I have said, many but there is also a contingent who are not willing to be there, they were forced into his service. They will be the only confused ones there."

Severus paused, noting the thoughtful expression on Wilkins' face. "As for Voldemort…he is undeniably powerful. Do not make any assumptions based on his wandering mind, he is still far more powerful than the ordinary wizard. Part of that is his own, the rest comes from feeding off of his followers and from the magic he used to stay among the living. He bridges both life and death. As a result, he is a tricky man to defy."

"Yet, there are those who do-you included," he mildly pointed out, pondering Severus' words.

"They have a power stronger than his for they have something that he lacks, something that I value very much. Be very sure that if you are going to turn your back on him, you know where to stand. He does not take kindly to betrayal."

"I am not afraid of death."

"That's nice to know-but he won't kill you. Dead, you are beyond his reach. There would be no lesson learned about the price one pays to betray him. No," he shook his head, "Death would be the kindest thing he would offer one who betrayed him."

The Mayor shivered, his mind having no trouble coming up with any number of scenarios where he'd be harmed. If Voldemort ever found his _true_ name, he would be unable to turn away. Like vampires, there was truth to the saying that to speak a demon's true name bound that demon to one. Knowing his name would give Voldemort unlimited power over him. He could see from Snape's face-what little he revealed there-that the other man knew what he had realized. "Are you not afraid that I will betray you to Voldemort?"

"No," he blandly studied his hands before looking up again, "Because you are no fool. Even if you bought yourself some safety, some time from him, you would gain no such mercy from my Slytherins or from Harry for any harm that befell me."

"Is that a threat?" the question was reflexive and incredulous.

A sneer crossed Snape's face, "I waste no time making threats, Wilkins. I only state the truth-but then, you already knew that." Rising to his feet, he smoothed down his coat, hating that he couldn't wear his robes around the town. Every time he left the mansion, he always felt as though he was terribly exposed. "This has been a most enlightening conversation but I have students to see and you have a city to run. I trust that when next we meet, the circumstances will be more fortuitous than a discussion of treason."

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Harry, Hermione, and Ron waited for Sirius while he informed Albus about Severus' meeting with the Mayor. "All right, let's go." Grabbing a coat from the rack, he followed after them, stopping to lock the door behind them. "We can't take any chances with only one fully trained wizard left in the house. The lock will buy them a few moments at least. And we must be back before nightfall. I am not as confident as Severus is in protecting you three from the nightlife-especially with Voldemort on the loose. The last thing I need is to be identified before Albus finishes clearing my name."

"Speaking of that, Professor Snape said I was to ask you to tell us about what happened in your meeting with Peter. He said that there were a few things that I ought to know," Harry began tentatively. It wasn't that he was nervous of his godfather's reaction to Peter, more that he worried about how he'd react to Severus' semi-orders.

"He did, did he?" he flatly asked, making a mental note to talk to Severus later about infringing upon Sirius' attempts at parenting Harry. He had every right to enjoy this time away from the school, to be a child. Then a sigh escaped, Harry had never been a child. He was not allowed to be a child because Voldemort had chosen him.

If they had only listened to the warnings that had proceeded Voldemort's coming, this burden would not have been put upon Harry's shoulders.

James and Lily's son still deserved better than this.

"Let's wait until we get to the school-this concerns Willow," he finally said.

Harry groaned, "Not that whole _she's my mother_ nonsense again." As much as they enjoyed giggling and making a joke of it, the both of them realized just how terrible his obsession with this idea was. And, unlike Severus who was protected from Voldemort's full possession of him by the life debt he owed to James Potter, Willow was not so lucky.

"I'm very afraid that it is-and goes far deeper than that. Far deeper," he sighed, rubbing his neck tiredly. Just thinking about the convoluted tale Pettigrew had unwillingly told them made him sick.

Hermione gasped, "He thinks that she's got some way of not overcoming death, but coming back much stronger and younger. He's going to…Oh, I'm going to be sick."

Ron quickly grabbed hold of her at the waist and led her off to the side. While they were away, Harry looked at Sirius, "What is she talking about?"

"Let's just get to the school," Sirius said, looking about nervously. Something felt dangerously wrong somewhere, "I'm not trying to avoid telling you, Harry. It's just not something that I want to explain more than once."

"But you'll tell me," Harry pressed.

"Yes," he nodded to reaffirm his words.

"Then I can wait," Harry shrugged nonchalantly.

End, Part 19


	20. A Joyous Hellmouth Sleepover

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Walking into the library a few moments later, he nodded to the Scoobies, taking note of who was there-and who wasn't with a little trepidation. "Hi. Let's just skip the introductions for now, we have news. And I would like more information about what you found. I've been trying to wrack my brains about how it applies to my situation and can't figure it out anymore than I can figure out how to love Voldemort to death.

"You could always give him a Care Bear," Xander offhandedly said. His friends looked at him, torn between laughter and shivers of mock fear but the wizards-excluding Hermione-looked at him blankly, "What? Loving an enemy onto the right path always works for them."

"They are _drawn_ that way," Cordelia acidly pointed out. "But you might have a point, though the idea that Care Bears may really exist scares me more than the existence of demons and double knit polyester does." She shivered, a distasteful look on her face.

"What's a Care Bear?" Ron suddenly asked, paling at the horrified looks that were directed his way. "What did I say wrong _now_?"

"You know what, I think it's time to introduce you to the wonders of the Dark Side of American culture. I really do," Buffy commented, "Especially when even the original bookworm knows what a Care Bear is. You do know what one is, right, Giles?" she added suspiciously, looking at him.

"Much to my eternal shame, yes, I do," Giles answered with a withering look at his slayer and her friends who were snickering wildly. "As for what I have found out, it won't take long to explain it. But right now, I need to know right now is why Sirius Black is here without a disguise and no explanation for his presence. I am sure that I would have received one had I seen him about the mansion before."

"He's innocent," Harry began, bristling up and ready to defend him.

"As innocent as he can be considering his history as an auror," Giles mildly retorted, looking at them harshly. "Can he not defend him self or does he always rely upon those younger and more susceptible than he is?"

"Peace, Harry," Sirius quickly said, noting the way Harry looked. And, while it pleased him that Harry was ready to defend him, it was not the time. "He has every right to ask since I said nothing to him after arriving. It's not like I haven't had time. Plus, there is a lot of history between the aurors and the Council, I should have told him. Pettigrew framed me for what happened to the Potters. He was the real secret keeper and told Voldemort where they were."

"I only met the man once-and thought he was a bit too much like Ethan to be totally trustworthy. I believe I told you that over a glass of port-or was that Fudge?" he added the half question softly, "It must've been him. I was with Travers at the time."

"Travers?" Sirius' voice was sharp, "Quentin Travers?"

"The same," he replied, caught by the look of angered madness in Sirius' eyes. "Why? Do you know something about him that I don't?"

"Nothing that I could prove outside the walls of Azkaban," his head shook regretfully. Having met the man once, he remembered him and the way that his skin crawled, leaving him feeling tainted in some manner. The door opened and Kendra walked in, letting it shut behind her with a sharp bang. It was so unlike her that they all stared at her in shock.

"I have left Mr. Zabuto. We no longer see eye to eye," she announced as though speaking of the weather. For only a moment did her eyes shine with a hint of recognition when they landed on Sirius. Moving on, she nodded to the others, shaking off their concern with a cold look. "If I might trouble you for a reference book, I must find myself a cheap motel to stay in," she finished.

"Don't be silly, Kendra," Buffy interjected before Giles could say anything. "You can stay with me. Now that my mom knows about my calling, I need all the help I can get to explain things to her about what I do and why-since I never did get that handbook."

"I do not wish to impose upon your hospitality," Kendra started to protest.

Buffy made a dismissive noise, waving her hand, "Oh, please. I'm so far down in the graces of the Council that even my finest begging won't help me return to any state of grace. And I really don't care about what they think of me and what I do."

"Thank you," she smiled slightly, sitting down. For the first time in a while, she felt welcomed somewhere. Though she still didn't feel quite right about being on the Hellmouth-especially without her Watcher-she felt like she belonged.

"Where's my mum?" Harry suddenly asked, knowing that they'd get the joke. And that they, unlike Severus, wouldn't snap at him about making light of the threat to the both of them. It wasn't that he was worried about Willow, he knew that she was more than able to take care of herself against Voldemort and his forces. She had, after all been able to protect the both of them while in Knockturn Alley.

But Sirius' words about the grave danger she was in because she looked like his mother played in his head relentlessly and he really wished that she was there with them. If anything happened to her because of Voldemort's insane obsession with the both of them-which had started with him in the first place-he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

"She went home," Xander said, flipping idly through one of the books on the table. "Her mom came to pick her up, said something about them having a little talk."

"Isn't her mom at the Paris conference? Why would she just leave because it finished? I mean, no offense against Willow, but its _Paris_ we're talking about," Cordy asked, watching him with some disdain.

"Not everyone is like you about such things," Xander retorted, momentarily stopping what he was doing. Honestly, he loved his girlfriend and all but she could be so shallow sometimes.

Cordy bristled slightly, but she knew what he meant, "I'm just saying that she's never cared about Willow before. Remember when she had that nasty flu that turned into walking pneumonia? She stayed with me because her parents couldn't be bothered to cut their trip short for the sake of their daughter's health. So, why the sudden parent routine now?"

"I don't remember that-and why did she stay with you?"

"It was before you came to Sunnydale-and my mom was in one of her _pity the unfortunate kids_ phases," Cordy informed them, somewhat superiorly. But her eyes showed the truth-she was very worried.

Xander started to retort, but then paused, "Come to think of it, her mom didn't seem quite herself. And Willow _really_ didn't want to get into the car with her. I think, if not for Snyder's presence, she would have run."

"You don't think," Hermione started to stay, shuddering.

The doors slammed open, cutting off her words, and Severus staggered in, a bundle in his arms. "Black, the most powerful wards and defensive magic you can come up with," he tossed his wand to the man, not waiting to see if he would do what he said. "Giles, we need a medical kit. Potter, call Hedwig and send her to the mansion with a message-evacuation and as much help as they can muster from Hogwarts. We have an invasion of Death Eaters."

"Hermione, Ron, I'll need your help to do this. The more witches and wizards setting the wards, the stronger and more surprising they will be. Are there any spots of particular vulnerability around here?"

"The sewers," Xander replied, noticing the tense way both Slayers were sitting. Elaborating at the blank look he received, "Not all of them. But Buffy needed some way to get about when she did her patrolling, so Giles opened a tunnel connecting one of them to the library. There's probably a few others so that maintenance can be performed, but I couldn't tell you where they were."

"Also, you might want to protect the windows," Cordy offered. "As they are made of glass, they will shatter. Now, I'm going to see if I can help Giles. Why don't you two watch the sewer entrance?"

"Voldemort's followers are human."

"So, don't use your full strength on them. You do know how to do that," she replied in an _isn't that obvious_ tone of voice.

"Hate to say it but," Buffy shrugged, "Cordy has a point."

"I always do," Cordy smirked.

The two slayers rose and disappeared around the corner.

"I need to visualize this complex before I can figure out the best spells to use. It would also be a handy thing to have so that I can see any inherently weak spots that they would not know about."

"There are plans on the computer," Hermione happily exclaimed. She was grateful to be on grounds she was more familiar with, "Oz showed me when he was helping me research my topic for that report I wrote for Defense Against the Dark Arts." It didn't take her that long to find them. With plans in hand, the trio went off.

Harry paced, waiting for Hedwig to arrive. Glancing at Xander after a few minutes, he noticed that the other young man didn't look worried or pensive. He just sat there, reading one of the books on demons. "Doesn't it bother you to be left out?"

"Sometimes," Xander shrugged, "But I'd only get in the way right now. When they need me, they'll let me know. We all have our own strengths, Harry. I'm the guy you turn to for a quick laugh to keep spirits high. It's what keeps us going."

"But I should be _**doing**_ something more than being an errand boy. I'm supposed to fight and defeat Voldemort."

"Something you can't do if you're too tired from a lesser fight. Sometimes the only thing you can do is nothing-and that's the hardest thing of all." He noticed Harry's incredulous look and laughed. "Don't worry, this reflective mood of mine isn't normal. It's just me passing along a few of the things that I've learned."

Hedwig arrived at that moment, squeezing through one window. Harry spoke quickly to her as he tied on the note and gave her a treat. Watching her leave, he finally sat down with a sigh, "Let's just hope she gets through before anything happens."

"Why did you send her to the mansion?"

"She'd never get to Hogwarts in time. Remus will know what to do." Glancing at the closed door, he shivered, seeing the body again. "What do you suppose they did to her?"

"I don't think I want to know," he rubbed the back of his neck. " Are you all right?'

"They're coming," Harry gasped as a familiar feeling swept through him, "And Voldemort is with them. He wants me to know he's there in no uncertain terms."

"Should I get someone?" he offered, not happy at all about the paling boy's raspy breathing and shivering body. "Do you need Professor Snape or Mr. Black?" He was half way to his feet when Harry's head shook negatively.

"Just help me focus," his words were slowly, as if he was fighting a mind numbing drug. "Tell me about those Care Bears or how you met. You could even tell me the amusing tales of your unsure love life. I heard a few things that can't be true," he slightly smiled-a pained one. "I just need to focus on something besides _him_. As much as Professor Snape has tried, I haven't gotten the hang of emptying my mind as quickly as I should."

So while Xander tried his best to imitate Willow when she was in full babble mode, they both tried to push their worries to the back of their minds. Sirius, Ron, and Hermione arrived as his throat dried up, unable to speak in anything louder than a rasp. Though torn, Sirius knew where his duty lay and he left the two with him.

He disappeared behind the stacks, intent on getting this over with. "Is it always this dirty?" he teasingly asked even as he began to pick up on the familiar feel of vampire remains.

"It seems that he wishes to be thorough in his attempts to take the Hellmouth," Kendra announced, brushing off her hands.

"Would you mind stepping back," Sirius asked. "I would not wish to strip your powers from you while I do this."

"Why not? It would give your shields more strength, wouldn't it?" Buffy asked.

"At the cost of your life," he dully agreed, not wanting to tell her how he knew that. There were just some things that he knew that he never wished to share. "I don't care how willing you are, I will not kill needlessly."

"Right," Buffy sucked in a breath, not wanting to know. "Call us if there's a need." They left and, upon meeting the others, she knocked on Giles' door, "How is she?"

"Alive, which is all we can hope for right now. I don't have a strong enough potion to do more than block him from draining her. Harry, are you all right?" Severus' eyes had immediately landed upon his nephew and he left the room.

"No, uncle," he replied, arms wrapped about his stomach, voice almost to low for the others to hear him. "I feel like Dudley and Piers sat on me at the same time."

"Next time I see those unfortunate pieces of humanity, I will turn them into rodents," he promised, joining him, feeling for a pulse. "Well, it is not as steady as I'd like but at least there's something there. Harry, I need you to throw him out of your mind once and for all. I want you to block him using love for that is a wall he cannot break."

Harry kept his eyes on him, finding it the easiest way to concentrate. Snape was an excellent focus point. "And how would I do that? Love is hardly a tangible thing."

"With great difficulty," Severus replied, thinking about it for a moment. "Have you ever seen any knitting done?"

"Only once at the Burrows," Harry admitted, puzzled. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Knitted clothes rely upon the strength of their weaving to hold form. TO build this barrier, you must do the same."

"But I don't know the first thing about knitting!"

"Don't look at me!" Hermione exclaimed, her hands thrown up defensively. "My mom said that knitting was an archaic talent, something that only old women with cats do. Sorry, Ron, but that was before I met your mother."

"Ron?" Harry began hopefully. Mrs. Weasley knitted all the time. Surely, Ron knew enough to get him started. They didn't have the time to look for instructions now. Voldemort was nearing them and he could feel his malevolent anger pressing upon them.

"Mr. Weasley, if you know how to knit, you must tell us. It is the only way to save Harry," it was the gentle care hidden under the silken order that captured Ron's attention and pushed his shame to the side.

"We all learned," Ron admitted. "Being a wizard wasn't an excuse in mum's eyes for not being able to do things by hand. Using magic was pure laziness to her, just taking the easy route."

"Your mother is right," Severus agreed with her words, starling them. "All too often we refuse to exert ourselves and use our magic to accomplish the simplest of tasks. The problem with that is that magic becomes a crutch. It inevitably cripples us." Scolding himself firmly for stopping to lecture, he sternly reminded himself that it was not the time for him to indulge in teaching them-even if they listened to him.

Conjuring up a ball of yarn and some knitting needles, he passed them over to Ron. "Here, walk Harry through the steps. Watch him and try to visualize strands of love, of compassion, of mercy in your mind. Knit them together as he is knitting the yarn. Mind you, keep out any negative feelings-and weave no pity into your shield. If they slip in, the whole shield will fall apart as the basis for it has weaknesses already woven into it."

"Why not pity, sir?" Hermione asked, curious as to why he singled it out. "Isn't pity the same thing as compassion?"

"Pity and compassion are similar but at the basic core, they are not the same at all. I need to see how Black is doing." He left them and walked around the shelf, stumbling and sliding to ground as pain attacked him. Pain that he could no longer avoid and ignore as he had been by focusing on other matters.

Sirius found him there, desperately trying to breath. "Voldemort?" his question was sharp as he knelt down and unbuttoned the shirt as the desperate shamed permission in his eyes. He rested the flat of his hand on his bared chest and focused, pushing back the liquid that tried to drown the other man's lungs, seeing once more the acquiescence in Snape's eyes.

He felt as though he was violating the man by doing this, even though he had his permission to do so. The knowledge that Snape's life was truly in his hands burned him and he found that he didn't like the feeling at all. "Does this have anything to do with Willow? Or is it the mysterious information Giles found?"

"Both," he managed to say before turning his head and vomiting up blood and a thick, clear fluid. "He really believes that she's Lily, Sirius. This knowledge is making him quite mad and since he's already insane, this does not bode well for us. I'm afraid that he's trying to kill her to force her to resurrect herself once again so that he may learn how she did it. I don't know how long I can hold him back. We have to wake her up."

"Isn't that dangerous in her condition?"

"It could kill her," he agreed with him, struggling to regain his composure and focus.

"Then why not put an amulet on her, charmed to block and store her magic? To lock it away from him until such a time as he has been dispersed?"

Severus looked at him as if he'd grown another head. "Sirius, I think that may possibly have been a moment of true, pure genius. Help me up, I need to make sure that the Headmaster brings the Sorting Hat-and for more reason than Gryffindor's sword."

"You aren't going anywhere," he firmly said, gently pushing him back down. They needed him to much, "Just rest. Amy, help him as you've seen me do."

"How?" she didn't finish the question. The look Snape shot her was enough to silence her.

"I warded the place and went to school with Severus. I knew the moment you arrived and have been tracking you. The dark magic in you sent off a warning charm. Now, kneel here and place your hand on his chest. You have to keep the fluid out of his lungs, keep him breathing, and his magic tethered to his body. It's not that hard," he instructed.

"But…But I couldn't," she stammered, terrified to touch the older man.

"Then Willow will die," he bluntly said, pulling no punches. "Right now, Severus is the only thing standing between her death and her life. He _**cannot**_ do it alone."

Shaking, she knelt down and put her hand where he told her. She could feel his life ebbing and flowing under her hand and slightly opened herself up to the powers that were inherently hers by right of being of the blood of the priestess. Carefully, she focused on the preservation of life and staying away from the corrupting touch of the Hellmouth. The last thing they needed was for that evil portal to color this healing, mutating it into something else.

"I will be back as soon as I can," Sirius promised and left. He appeared outside the mansion, wand at the ready. As there was no true way to determine where the Death Eaters were, he was not taking any more foolish chances. That was what had cost him those years with Harry in the first place. If he hadn't been so impulsive, so stupid, he would've been a bigger part of his godson's life.

Shaking off his thoughts, he crept into the house, looking about cautiously. Albus was sitting in the front room, waiting for him patiently. The Sorting Hat rested on his lap, looking rather pleased to be out of the castle-even if the situation was far from a good one.

"How did you?" he started but stopped. This was Albus Dumbledore after all.

His eyes twinkled merrily. "I find it best to prepare for any contingency. I just wish there was a way to evacuate the town before this blows up. The students, with the exception of a few of the Slytherins and those who are calling themselves Dumbledore's Army, have returned to the safety of Hogwarts."

"How did you accomplish that?" he asked.

"Do not be so surprised that there are students who have chosen to protect the younger students while many of the teachers are involved in this nasty business of handling this situation," he replied. "You will have to help me side apparate with the students. We can't take any chances. I trust that your shields will allow us in?"

"As long as there are none who are secretly loyal to Voldemort," Sirius answered, knowing that he need not elaborate about what would happen to them.

"Then let's return," Albus' smile dimmed. "I believe that Severus is in need of greater help than you or I or even Miss Madison with her goddess born power can provide."

"Poppy?"

"She cannot be spared as her skills will be called into service soon. I will modify the shields to let the gravely injured depart to a safe meeting place where Hagrid will meet and portkey them to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagal and the most of the Weasley boys are waiting in the study," Albus sad, an unidentifiable sadness in his voice. "Fudge had to clear your name after many, many, _many_ people saw Pettigrew. There was quite an outcry about his mishandling of the entire affair. I would not be surprised if we find ourselves with a new Minister come fall."

Soon-far sooner than Sirius had been prepared for-they were back inside the library. A high pitched scream echoed down from the stacks. They jumped up, startled, wands ready. "Easy, children," Albus soothed them, hiding his worry behind an easy smile. "I shall go see what's wrong. But I'm sure that it's nothing."

Harry stayed on his feet as the others sat down, walking over to them. "It's not nothing, that's where Professor Snape disappeared to and I have every right to be there, sir. More right than others here do," he softly added.

Albus looked at Sirius, who gave no indication either way about his preferences. That alone shocked him and made the Headmaster very suspicious. Harry stood there, eyes meeting his evenly. "Very well," he reluctantly agreed. "Bill, see Mr. Giles and help him and the Hat with the protective amulet for Willow. Sirius, would you be kind enough to explain what I mean and what we need it to do?"

Albus didn't wait after passing over the Sorting Hat. He knew Minerva would take the students in hand and begin to give them their orders. Turning the corner, he stopped, color leaving his face at the sight that met his eyes. The strength left him as he sank slowly to his knees, "Oh, my poor child. What has he-I-what have _**we**_ done to you?"

"I tried to help him but it got to be too much, to fast for me. Did I kill him?" Amy whispered, staring at her bloody hands in horror. Blood, so much blood, it was impossible to believe that it had come from one man. That he could live after expelling so much of his life force.

Breathing slowly, he shook his head, even as he withdrew his wand, "Of course not. Step back and let me take care of this."

His eyes were drawn to that horrible mark upon his uncle's arm. There was something about it. It looked like it was…eating something and expanding. "No!" Harry exploded, stepping between them. He could feel their eyes on him and explained, "No more magic. Voldemort can feel it. We have to take care of him through muggle means."

"We don't have time, Harry. If we use muggle ways, he will die."

"And if we use magic, Voldemort will only grow stronger. Professor Snape needs one like him to heal him with magic-he needs an ambient mage. Until Professor Flitwick comes, we have to use muggle means," he insisted, standing his ground.

Headmaster Dumbledore and Amy both stared at him, shocked by the absolute conviction in his voice. "How do you know this, Harry?" the headmaster asked, looking between the boy and the man on the ground.

"I just do, all right?" he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Severus is dying while we stand here, debating. Now, are you going to help me or do I have to do it myself?"

"Miss Madison, is there any place we can take him to clean him up?"

"Yes, the gym. This way," she shakily stood up, watching as the old man rose and picked up the wounded man. She saw him cast a tiny spell, allowing him to carry him with ease. They made their way past horrified gazes, staring at the wracked body. She noticed vaguely that the Slayers rose and flanked them.

Charlie followed them, concerned and willing to offer whatever he could. They had quickly caught up and accepted the new situation and magic that existed. Although, he still struggled with the concept that Professor Snape had more magic than anyone had known. And he wondered how anything an ancient North American shaman had said could help them.

"Harry?" A weak voice rasped, one pale hand reaching blindly out.

Charlie shivered at the sound that echoed down the empty hall, it looked so bony and pale, he wondered if the vampire Snape rumors _**were**_ actually the truth. His hand looked more like a claw in the light than the elegant pianists that he was used to seeing.

"Yes, uncle?" Harry quickly answered, grasping his hand tightly. Albus' face revealed his shocked surprise and he stumbled, jostling Severus just a bit. "Don't drop him!" his order was every bit as sharp as one of his uncle's.

"Harry," he called out again.

"I'm here, uncle. I'm right beside you," he repeated, squeezing tighter. "Can't you feel me?"

"Cold," he mumbled, "I'm so cold."

"We'll get you warmed up," he said, "Just hang on. Uncle, please, just hold on."

"Too tired," he coughed, a terribly raspy sound, as they entered the locker room. Blood spilled from his mouth, too dark to be healthy. His breathing sounded rough, unhealthy in the midst of the silence. "I'm too tired from carrying it all."

"Then let me help you! You don't have to do it on your own anymore. I'm here for you. I need you, uncle."

By now, Albus had rested Severus on the floor, back placed against the cool wall. He felt at sea, mind churning. How had his potions master hidden this knowledge from him all this time? With effort, Charlie and the Headmaster pushed it to the back of their minds, focused on healing him. They turned on the water faucets, watching as the slayers blocked the drains.

"We're trying to create a sauna atmosphere for him," she said, as Albus changed one stall into a deep tub.

"Good idea, Miss Summers," Charlie complimented her, copying them-except he added charms to evaporate the water. The last thing they was a flood.

"Can't take the credit for it-it was all Kendra's idea."

"Let me help you," they heard Harry's half-plea, half demand. "Why do you insist on doing this alone? You aren't alone-not anymore. I won't let you be alone, you stupid, stubborn git!" Gently, but with all the strength he possessed, he held him tightly in his arms.

Ignoring the way his uncle automatically stiffened, Harry rubbed his back and rocked him back and forth. "I know you think that you can do it on your own-but you can't. No one can. You've taken my burden on as you own for far too long. I ask, not to take it away from you, but to share it with you. I can't do it without you-and you can't do it without me."

"Harry, we need to clean him now," Albus gently prodded him.

"Use your wand to remove our clothes-while keeping on our undergarments. Severus deserves some privacy and dignity." With Albus' help, Severus was lowered into the warmed water. Harry grabbed a cloth and a very gentle cleanser, climbed in with him.

End, Part 20

_Author's Note: I know, Harry **is** making rather free with Severus' name, isn't he? I did try to stop him, to get him to properly address him, but, like the Gryffindor he is, he ignored me. Only Severus can stop him-and, at the moment, he doesn't care to._


	21. Family Bonds Of A Demented Half Sister

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Stripped of his clothes, Harry realized just how frighteningly thin his uncle was under the clothes he wore. Clothes that also served as armor to keep the entire world at bay. The man had a sparse form, compact with sinewy muscle but all too clearly bone showed through his thin, pasty white skin. Scars, both new and old, of magical and muggle origin, crisscrossed his skin.

_Gods_, Harry couldn't help the thought, _why does he do this for those who will never thank him? Who will never realize just how much it takes from him_? His uncle's words came back to him, words that told Harry that Snape's whole life had been a lie.

And then he noticed something strange about some of the marks. They looked almost…whole, like they weren't there at all but for a faint outline, "Sir? Why are some of these wounds healed so…completely? So differently from the others that you have?"

Severus' head lay in Albus' lap as the older man gently brushed the hair back, cleaning it with love and care. "Lily healed them."

"With magic?" he asked, truly puzzled. These deep wounds he saw were terrible. They punctured the skin deeply. Yet there were others as bad that were not as damaged. Even with healing magic, there should have been worse scarring than he saw-and it wasn't there.

"The same way you are, though she sealed them with love."

Harry gasped, startled by a thought, "It was because of you, wasn't it? She knew how to protect me because she protected you first. Don't you see? I can't kill him in love-I have to let him kill me. Sacrifice, my mother's love will protect me so that you can destroy him while he's occupied with me. That's what Giles' information from the shaman meant."

Severus looked at Harry, a glimmer of the man he really was showing in his eyes. "And how did you come to such an astonishing conclusion?" he asked. "Voldemort can touch you now, using your blood in the ritual to restore him to life destroyed that protection."

"But not totally," he insisted, weaving his love and concern into his uncle's skin the same way he'd built it into his mental shields. "There is no way that the hate inside of him could totally destroy the unconditional love my mother had for me. The love that allowed her to sacrifice her life to save my own. No, there is still some protection within me-and that is because you have given your love to me. You have never wavered in your devotion to me and to my mother. That has strengthened the protection about me because he could not predict that I would ever find out, that you would ever be free enough to love me. That I would find it in me to love you back, even if I have to learn to get past your bad behavior. You said ambient mages call magic to them-but they also project their magic. You've been weaving that protection around me ever since he returned."

"Is that possible, Headmaster?" Charlie asked, spellbound by the idea. "I mean, his mother's loving sacrifice protected him before. Could Professor Snape's living love protect him now?"

"It is an intriguing proposition worth looking into," he slowly admitted, intrigued despite himself. "But now, you must satisfy my curiosity, Severus. Why does Harry call you uncle?"

"Because he _**is**_ my uncle," Harry answered for him, afraid that even now, Severus would deny the truth.

"No more pestering Severus for answers. He needs rest and care, not this interrogation. No matter how kind," Flitwick's cool voice announced his presence. His voice's tone was obviously disapproving of the way they handled his charge. "Now that Miss Rosenberg has been cared for, it is Severus' turn. Harry, you may stay because you are family but the rest of you need to leave for you would only distract and confuse my magic-especially the Slayers as their powers are kin to our own."

Albus lovingly patted Severus' head before he led them from the room. _I will do whatever I can to make this up to you, my precious son_, he thought as the door closed behind him. For the first time in ages, he could feel pure hatred coursing through his veins towards Voldemort-and towards himself. He had never once considered that the abuse had gone that far.

Entering the library with the solemn group, he walked over to where Giles stood with Minerva and Remus. After asking after Willow's health, he asked after the shaman's words. "Harry has come to some strange conclusions regarding it."

"Well, it would not be hard to do so, it is very strangely worded," he noted, going into his office to get the book for Albus. Without a word, he passed it over, watching the frown cross the Headmaster's face.

_An act from the past bound two to one._

_An act of the present shields the bonded in love._

_A sacrifice for the future's good shall save all_.

"How does this relate to us? It does not match the prophecy at all. It would seem to utterly contradict it," Minerva commented from her place over Albus' shoulder.

"It would help if I knew what that prophecy was," Giles retorted. "But did not James Potter save Severus' life, binding them together until the debt was paid?"

"That would fit in with the past act," she agreed, slowly, "Though nothing else fits."

"Let's map this out," Sirius suddenly suggested, tired of his own thoughts. "Place both the prophecy and the shaman's words side by side. If we could see them together may be we could figure it out."

Without a word, Albus transfigured a book into a chalkboard, both of the statements side by side. "Any suggestions?" he asked, opening the floor to all there.

"Well," Xander started hesitantly, "The fact that Professor Snape and Lily are siblings might be what the first line refers to. An act of their parents separated them and yet, they are united by blood."

"Severus and Lily aren't related," Minerva instantly denied but caught sight of Albus' suddenly grim face. "Are they?"

"Half-sibling actually," Sirius offhandedly told them, noting the looks of surprise. "What? I was her partner in charms when we did the genealogical spell to reveal the hidden families in our lives."

"You've known since our fourth year and refused to say anything?" Remus asked, appalled by the way Sirius dispensed this knowledge, as though it was no big deal. Which, to him, it may not have been.

"Remus, I was trying to suppress that knowledge-and I did a very good job of it until that terrible night of Harry's birth." He shuddered suddenly, remembering that night-and Lily's gut wrenching screams of agony-all to well.

"What happened?" Cordy asked, not really noticing the way he stared at her until the dead silence that greeted her question brought her gaze his way. "It might be important in figuring the connection out."

"I went to the Potter's home that night to inform Potter about an attack on his special forces, one of the few in existence, and found Black guarding Lily. She was at home because it was still early in her pregnancy but there was always the chance of an early birth. St Mungo's was on lockdown because of several Death Eater attacks in the area. Much to our mutual dismay, she had started to give birth. As a potions master, I had had to take several medi-healer classes in order to get my degree. I knew how to help her to a certain extent, though I was in no way a qualified medi-healer."

Severus stopped, coughing and breathing heavily for a few minutes before he found the energy to continue his tale. "When I entered, Lily's water had broken. Unfortunately, it seemed to be more blood than water, a very bad sign as I'm sure you can all imagine," he mildly said over the pained gasps of shock and horror. "I had Black run a hot bath for her, giving us a birthing pool in the hopes that it would help ease the pains in her body and make the birth that much easier. The both of us got her upstairs and into the water. It helped, at first. But there was more blood and more pain, with Sirius' help, I did a full examination of her and found the awful truth."

Again, he stopped, coughing furiously. Harry forced him over to a chair and rubbed his back worriedly. He didn't like seeing the flakes of blood emitting from Severus' mouth. But there was nothing he could do, they needed to know. Regaining his breath at last, Severus went on hoarsely, "Harry was not only pointed in the wrong direction, but had his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck too tightly. I could not safely turn him around-even using magic-without the risk of strangling him to death. There was only one option, but to perform a caesarean section on a witch is about as lethal as casting the killing curse."

His eyes closed as his shoulders shook under the strain. Gods, it hurt to think about that night. Harry stood at his side, his arm instantly wrapping about him for support. "I was out of any real options at that point. Lily said she trusted me to do what was right. She wanted me to do it-even if she died as a result. You must understand, I loved her and didn't know what else to do. She begged me, _pleaded with me_, to do this, to save her son. I gave into her pleas, though I was afraid of what would happen. I performed the operation-one which I was totally ill-equipped for-but managed to save them both."

Harry held his uncle, feeling the sobs tearing him silently. "Haven't we heard enough?" he harshly asked, anger dampening his voice. "He's told us enough, relived it enough for your own amusement. Leave him alone."

"The prophecy Mr. Giles found," Hermione softly interjected, flushed with realization. "It's not about Harry at all. It's about Professor Snape."

"I would hardly call it a prophecy," Giles protested, though he was intrigued by her words. Of them all, she seemed to have some kind of finger on the pulse of their dilemma.

"But it is. The first line has to do with Professor Snape's saving Harry and Lily's lives that night. He used both love and strong blood magic to do it. I would imagine that he even had to cross through the barrier of death to lead them back into life. Because of this one action, they were bonded and his continuing, devoted love shields Harry from Voldemort's worst attacks. Wouldn't he be fiercer, more violent to Harry if there was no other protection other than what Harry himself could muster up?" she asked Headmaster Dumbledore.

"Yes," Harry answered instead, slowly as though he was just realizing it. It was so obvious, he couldn't understand why he'd never seen it before. "Severus has been blocking the worst of his attacks all my life. How does the last line figure in? Or was I right about that?"

Severus didn't answer. His lax posture revealed that he slept peacefully against Harry. His grip tightened upon him. A fierce light in his green eyes as he recognized the trust placed in him by this one, seemingly simple gesture. "I am right, I know that I am. I am not the one capable of killing Voldemort. I have the power within me and the determination but not the strength of character or age to turn away from the darkness that would be released upon his death. Only Severus has that."

"So, how is he your uncle?" Ron asked. "And why didn't you live with him?"

Harry shrugged, "He's only told me that Lily's his sister. I didn't go to live with him because he was afraid of the free Death Eaters, he didn't think Voldemort was gone. To spy again, he couldn't risk raising me and he thought spying was the only way to assure my safety. And Headmaster Dumbledore didn't know. But you did, didn't you, Professor Flitwick?"

"No," Filius admitted, shaking his head. "Though the charm was cast in my class, Lily only turned in half of her family tree, claiming that her spell failed to reveal it all to her. I found it strange as Lily was the most gifted charms student I had ever had."

An explosion smashed against the shields and every flinched, jumping up. Severus and Harry remained in place while everyone looked out the windows. An eerie darkness hung across the sky, causing an early night to cover the land. In the center of green lit torches, a man shaped being stood, flanked by creatures of all descriptions and darkly robed beings whose faces were concealed behind masks.

Buffy whistled, "That's quite a large gathering of demons."

"To many for our small band to fight," Kendra agreed.

"You guys have a back-up cavalry waiting in the wings, right?" Xander asked, his voice only wavering slightly. His gaze never moved away from the sight before him. It was a frightening display of evil forces the kind of which one only saw in the movies. As much as he looked, he couldn't seem to take it all in, no matter how hard he tried.

This Voldemort meant business.

"I'm afraid it's just us until Moody can gather the faithful together and bring them here. I really wasn't expecting him to arrive with this many allies," Albus murmured. For the second time that day, shock was written on his face.

"Does anyone see Mayor Wilkins?" Giles anxiously asked. Though he tried, he could not see everyone in the gathering. It was frustrating because of all their troubles, the Mayor was the biggest one for them to resolve-he being able to become a real demon. Though they'd help fight Voldemort, there really was nothing they could do about his human followers.

Having met the man once because Severus was unable to, Minerva shook her head, noting the way that Giles sagged in relief. "Why?" she asked, more for the sake of occupying her mind that an earnest need to know.

"This eclipse means that Voldemort could cause his transformation-even if the Mayor has done nothing to prepare for it. He wishes to turn into a true demon," Giles explained. "I'm afraid that he could still bring it to pass without Wilkins being here. I can only imagine the deaths caused if he were to do so and bring him here."

"Why isn't he with them anyway? I thought he was an ally?" Ron asked, backing away. He'd seen more than enough to know that he wouldn't rest easy for some time, if he ever did.

"Severus saw him earlier," Harry shrugged, careful not to dislodge the sleeping man. Of all there, he knew just how badly his uncle needed to rest. "Perhaps he was able to talk some sense into him."

"Or may be he did us all a favor and killed him," Ron retorted, but there was no fire. In all honesty, if Snape had killed the man, that was one less worry for them to deal with. He could still hear Harry's words regarding the Mayor's intentions. If they didn't have to face a true demon, he'd be more than happy.

Though he glared at him, Harry could see the point being made. A very valid one, though he hated to admit it. "He could've done that too."

"Either way," Bill said, rather dismally for a Weasely, joining Ron and Charlie at the table. "It looks like they're setting up camp. So, what do we do now? Attack? Or do we retreat?"

"Not with so few numbers," Albus protested, fearing what would happen if they ended up having to face them on their own. "Even if his forces are merely brute strength, they still outnumber us several times over. Until we know how to undo his eclipse, our fight would be hopeless. As for retreat, we can't let him have the Hellmouth."

"Well, we can't wait them out. Even if his forces turn on each other, we can't survive under these conditions for long," Charlie pointed out.

"We could buy some time," Fred and George chorused. "After all, hit and run is one of our specialties-just ask Sn…Professor Snape." They finished, mindful of Harry's feelings towards the potions professor.

"They will have spells against portkeys and apparation," Remus pointed out, "And wards that would be difficult-if not impossible-to evade. You would have to work like a muggle and risk getting caught, which would defeat the purpose."

"Not if they had a magic that worked outside of our understanding," Hermione slowly said.

"Both Severus and Miss Rosenberg are too injured and tired to be of use," Flitwick pointed out, somewhat harshly for him.

"I'm not talking about them," she responded, looking at Amy significantly. "Professor Snape said that your magic comes from a third source, that of direct Earth magic. She could use it to bypass their wards and defenses to get the twins in and out with little fuss."

"But I'd need a general map of their camp and some understanding of their positions. It would do us very little good to get in if we can't do anything," she protested, knowing that backing out was not an option any longer. If she left them alone and they lost, she'd become a slave to Voldemort when he found her.

And Amy did not deluded herself-he would hunt her down and find her. Not only was she friends with Harry and company, she was just to powerful to let escape his grasp.

"I can do that," Sirius volunteered, "Though I've little practice in timing the enemy's position and changes, I can observe them and mark the boundaries of their camp. I did that when I was an auror."

"I would offer to help but many of Voldemort's followers are former students of mine. They would notice me immediately," Minerva murmured, sighing. "Mr. Weasely's skills at chess could come in handy. Unfortunately, we do not have the time to teach him how to properly become an animagus."

"Couldn't you just change him into something else to blend in?" Xander asked.

"I wish it could be that easy but it is not, Mr. Harris. If I turned him into an animal, he would have the mind of an animal," she explained.

"Has no one here ever heard of a video camera?" Cordy asked, "We could just record them and watch them as they do their thing. We have the equipment here, you could just do some magic to it-or Amy could-so that it wouldn't be noticed. Then, we would have them under surveillance twenty-four/seven."

Bill stared at her, not sure what to make of her. He'd heard that she was far blunter than anyone he'd ever met-and he'd met quite a few people over the years. And from what he'd heard, they were right, "That could work. But do we have the time for such watching?"

"We'll have to make the time," Albus resignedly said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His gaze rested momentarily upon Severus and Harry. It pained him to admit it, but he would need to send the potions master back out into the field quite soon. And he knew Harry would strongly object. "So, let's get to work."

"Would a time turner be of use?" Ron asked.

"Afraid not," Filius answered after a moment. It was a good idea, he just wished it would be practical to use it. But because there were those who would misuse the power of the turner, they had fail safe's placed in them. "A time turner's magic could totally ruin the end results or irrevocably alter events in ways that we cannot predict. Besides, we do not have the time to procure one."

"Just checking," Ron said, sounding like he'd expected that answer but was hoping for a different one anyway. "Headmaster, where are the students who wouldn't leave?" He'd heard that there had been a few to remain behind, but hadn't seen them.

"We were preparing survival/battle kits as Professor Snape taught us to on one of our outings," Draco announced, coming into the library with several kits. There seemed to be enough to last them all a couple of weeks. "Except for Dumbledore's Army, who are watching that bloody Council of yours, Mr. Giles. Parvati caught sight of them as we went to find the cafeteria. So, the aforementioned group went undercover to find out what they were doing with Voldemort. If I were you, I'd quit."

"I knew Travers was an untrustworthy fellow," Sirius muttered, standing back at last. Looking at Draco, he asked, "Are they protected?"

"I let them use the charms Professor Snape gave each of us Slytherins, even the Dark Lord can't break the protection on them."

"Are we under siege?" Crabbe asked, sitting on the floor near his Head of House. Though the man was unconscious, he still felt far safer to the Slytherins who gathered about him than anyone else in the room.

"Yes and until we are better aware of their movements and positions, there is nothing we can do but wait," Remus told them. "We can't risk using Harry's connection to Voldemort to find out what's going on. And any use of our magical items would be noticed, so extra care must be taken to avoid trouble."

"We could go in and let you know what's going on," Pansy offered, her voice barely wavering with fear. It was there for all to see but she never let it enter in her voice, knowing that she could not allow herself to doubt. "With the exception of Draco, none of our parents know were we stand on the subject of Voldemort. We could tell them that Professor Snape was trying to keep us out of his reach so that the Headmaster would never suspect us should anything happen. I know that my parents want me to join."

"I could never ask you to do such a thing," Albus protested.

"You aren't," Millicent softly said, her voice completely at odds with her tough looks. "We're offering-and show our support to Professor Snape. He has done so much for us. Taught us so much, leading us out of the dark paths our parents want us to walk along-it's time for us to return the favor. It's up to us to make Slytherin a house that fights beside Gryffindor, even if our actions are never acknowledged openly."

"Slytherin should not be the house of shame," Goyle added. "It is time for change."

"Are you sure this is what you wish to do?" Severus quietly asked, his hand gently reaching out to touch each of his _children_-each who seemed strengthened by that touch. His hand lingered on Draco, wishing to impart a measure of his strength into the one who would be left behind his friends and allies. "Do you realize the toll it will place upon your very souls? This step towards the dark will forever follow after you, clouding all that you do and all that you are perceived as?"

"Being in Slytherin has already marked us as the children of evil," Blaise shrugged. "We might as well change things for those who follow after us. After all, not all Slytherins are evil, just ask the Headmaster."

Albus laughed, "How is it that I can never hide it from at least one Slytherin? Every year, one from my old house figures it out. I would suspect Severus told you, but he isn't the kind to give away such secrets."

"You were in Slytherin?" Ron asked as his family stared at Albus in open-mouthed shock.

"Of course," Albus jovially replied. "Do you mean to tell me that not one of you suspected anything? Dear, dear, with all the Machiavellian schemes I've put into play over the years, one would've thought that _someone_ would have figured it out."

"Takes a Slytherin to know one, old man," Severus wryly said.

"True, true," Albus chuckled. "Still, it is rather disappointing."

Charlie shook himself, "Interesting as this is, let's get to work. I don't think Voldemort is going to be patient with us for much longer."

And with that sober reminder hanging in the air of the room, the Slytherins stood and left the library, looking at their beloved Head of House for what might be the last time. Draco watched them go. As much as he wished to stand with his classmates, to be with them in their time of need, he could not.

His place was now here.

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The siege had been no more than a day strong before enough information started to come in for the twins to begin harassing Voldemort's army. They began small, just tiny annoyances that could be easily written off as accidents or weather troubles. The last thing they needed was for Voldemort to get so angry that he attacked them before they were ready for him.

Dumbledore's Army worked as messengers between the spies in the camp and those in the school. It had to be carefully timed so that the young Slytherins wouldn't get caught betraying their own parents and Voldemort. Hard work but it helped draw the students together. Parvati had brought them news earlier that the Council had left.

Unfortunately, they still had no idea why the Watcher's Council had for being among his followers anyway, though Giles feared it had something to do with the deaths of the potentials all across the US. But as it was only a theory, they did not dare to build upon it. They couldn't afford to build a strategy based on speculation about what happened. Not knowing the truth was eating away at them and he was doing his best to find out what happened.

Willow and Severus finally healed enough to wake up half-way through the afternoon on the second day. To be more precise, they remained conscious for more than a few moments at a time. In Severus' case, he forced himself-contrary to Flitwick's advice-to stay awake and to get involved with the proceedings.

Willow watched him, tempted to just knock him out, to force him to rest. She couldn't bring herself to do it, though. It wouldn't be fair to him and would only make him angry with her, something they could not afford right now. More than ever before, she needed his guidance.

"Why are you pushing yourself so hard?" she finally asked after another day had passed and he had yet to settle down despite everyone's attempt to get him to do so. "I mean, I know that you've got some really bad night terrors and wish to avoid them for as long as possible, but this isn't the way. If you intend to stand beside Harry, you can't break yourself before the battle even begins."

"I shall be fine, Miss Rosenberg," he acidly retorted, ignoring her concern.

"No, you won't. You won't be able to shield Harry, deflect incoming spells, and piggy-back that killing curse of Voldie's back upon him if you don't rest," she snapped.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me, Professor Snape-so don't play dumb with me. The role does not suit you. The battle has been yielded into your hands by Harry himself-but only Voldie can kill himself because he meddled with powers that weren't his own. Harry's giving you the battle, he's sacrificing his place to you and that's something Voldie can't understand. He won't expect that move at all, that Harry does not want the power he would gain by destroying him. By yielding the field to you, he's giving you that choice. So, meet my resolve face-and go to sleep. I won't give you the choice to go under your own power again."

Severus believed her. He'd seen that expression before. Very miffed-but relieved to be under direct orders-he stalked into Giles' office where a bed waited for him. Taking off his shoes, he lay back and stared up at the ceiling for a while, aware of every ache in his body.

"Thanks," Harry grateful said, voice quiet in the stillness that had followed in the wake of his exit. "I couldn't get him to rest no matter what I said."

"Try ordering him," she said, rather dryly for her. "He seems to respond well to that."

"How did you know all of that? No matter what we've theorized, we never came up with that."

"I'm not quite," she slowly admitted, her fingers idly tracing along the dragon pendant around her neck. "It just sounded convoluted enough to be right. As much as we'd like to think that magic is a simple matter of waving a wand around and uttering a spell, it isn't. Magic is far more complicated and ritualistic than that."

Harry yawned, blushing at her amused look. "Sorry, I haven't been sleeping well lately."

"Go to sleep, Harry. The battle now may rest in Professor Snape's hands but you still have an important role to play in it. You have to make sure that Voldie keeps his eyes on you. There is not point in letting Severus have the fight if Voldie knows about the switch. It's the surprise that has to trap him, much like his defeat."

"Can Uncle Severus really deflect the killing curse?" he asked, feeling an odd thrill at saying the name. He liked it so much, he called him uncle every chance he got. "And if he can, why don't they teach how to do it in defense class? Or is it something only an ambient-or a dark-wizard can do?"

Willow sighed, her hand dropping the play with the loose threads of her shirt. "I don't know how he'll do it. I only know that he will be able to, Harry."

Nodding his head, though he was pretty sure she knew more than she was saying, Harry left her alone. Kneeling down, he grasped his uncle's hand, resting his head on the mattress beside the warm body. "I hope you don't die. I really need some family. Sirius is great-but he just can't help me," he whispered, falling asleep.

Severus removed his hand from Harry's grasp and placed it on his head. "Nice to know, my boy," he quietly replied. Exerting just a little magic, he raised the boy off the floor and onto the bed beside him. Harry rested his head against his beating heart, lulled deeper into sleep by the steady sound of it. "I do love you, Harry."

"_Do you have any idea how disturbingly human you look_?" James asked, staring down at them, an unreadable look in his eyes.

"Potter, I'm tired. I really cannot deal with your inane self right now. So, if you've nothing imperative to share with me about the coming battle, go away." He stared up at the man, willing his eyes to remain open and focused, though it took all his strength to do so.

James rested a hand on each of their heads, "_I trust you, Severus. I really wish things had been different between us all. Don't mess this up and leave him alone, Snape. I mean it. If you do, I'll kick your arse back into life. Got it?_"

"Only you could disguise a threat under the guise of loving concern, Potter. Be assured that I am far to attached to my life and to Harry to let Voldemort win," he said, glaring up at him.

"_Just so that we understand each other_," he replied before allowing himself to fade away.

Severus waited a beat, still feeling James' hand on his head. Resulting in the disturbing thought that the man may still be there with them, his exhaustion eventually got the better of him and he drifted off to sleep, a final thought in his mind directed towards Lily. _There are times, my demented sister, when I understand why you married that man_.

End, Part 21


	22. The Truth About The Lies of Severus

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"You know what's going to happen, don't you?" Oz's quiet voice announced his presence. And though she'd been vaguely aware of his presence in the room, she jumped in fright anyway, looking up at him with bruised eyes. "Sorry."

"S'okay," she shakily replied. "I'm glad you're here. Where were you? And, no, I don't know what's going to happen. I only suspect what it may be-and I don't like what I suspect."

"I was with the band, helping them flee the town. Devon didn't understand why I wanted to stay. Said it was just something that I needed to do," he shrugged. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yes!" She sobbed, throwing herself into his arms. "I'm tired of trying to be strong, of being answer girl for everyone." In Oz's arms, she poured out all the things that had been troubling her since they had met the Hogwarts gang. Oz just sat down and rocked her, not saying a word, letting it all pour out of her until she drifted off into the first naturally peaceful sleep she'd had in days.

"Is she all right?"

"She'll survive," Oz answered, not looking up.

"That's not what I asked," Remus half-scolded him.

"It's the best I can do. Only Will knows how she truly is. But if you want my opinion, she's going to be all right. She only needed to unburden herself," Oz answered, just letting his presence soothe her.

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Harry felt a little off balance as he walked along. There was some kind of strange, grayish tint around his eyes that he couldn't seem to blink away. His ears started to ring, causing a head-ache to form. It was almost like when he'd fallen into Albus' pensieve, only not so…weird.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was like falling…Harry gasped, like falling into Riddle's diary. Panicking, he desperately looked about, trying to find a way out of this…this nightmare before Voldemort discovered him. Before he did anything to mislead and confuse him.

"Calm down, Harry-this is _my_ memory," Severus soothed him. His familiar dark clad body appeared to the right and Harry relaxed, taking comfort in what he knew.

"What are we doing here?" he asked, catching sight of an ugly looking, gangly youth off to the corner. The boy was holding his nose, glaring balefully up at someone. He looked vaguely familiar to Harry, though he couldn't say for sure where he'd seen him. But he was absolutely sure he knew the boy, that look was rather distinctive.

"_That's what you get for calling me a liar!" a pretty redhead snapped, her hands on her hips._

"_I think you broke my nose, Lily," he sullenly replied. Though the voice squeaked with the unmistakable sound of an adolescent entering puberty, Harry could hear the beginnings of the silken voice he knew so well. As hard as it was to believe, he was looking at Severus Snape._

"_It's your own fault, you taught me to punch with deadly intent," she sniffed at him. Inside, her blood was still thrumming at his words, she couldn't believe him. But as she stared at his vulnerable face, her expression softened. Kneeling down, she pulled out her handkerchief, cleaning the blood up before pinching his nose fiercely._

_His nose did look absolutely terrible and she couldn't believe that she'd been the one to make it look that way._

"_I didn't mean for you to use it on me," he protested, trying not to wince at the pain in his nose-nor the way his voice sounded as a result of the pinch upon it. He already hated the way his voice squeaked when he talked. This made things worse because now he'd sound as though he had a head cold and Madame Pomfrey would insist upon taking care of him. He hated seeing that woman. She coddled him way to much for his peace of mind._

"_It certainly got your attention off of your stupid, misbegotten pride, didn't it?" she pointed out, snapping the bone back into place. "But I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you so hard. I hate losing my temper, shows I have no control over myself and gives that power away."_

"_I just can't believe it. How could you be my sister and not have been raised by us? That spell shows that we should be twins-which we know we are not. My father would not throw you out just because you're not biologically his," Severus protested, "Although, I am grateful that you aren't exposed to my grandfather. He would utterly despise you."_

_When she said nothing, he scowled-an expression that didn't work when half his face was covered in the reddened cloth. "Oh, fine," he snapped, knowing what she wanted to hear-and she had every right to demand, he knew this. He'd been totally out of line. "I'm sorry I called you a barking mad, hyperventilating, menstruating liar. You aren't any of those things."_

"_We're going to have to work on the way you apologize next," she pinched the nose tighter for a moment. Not only because she wished to stop the bleeding, but also as a slight reminder of just where she was. "You didn't sound sincere at all."_

"_Believe me, Lily, I have never been more sincere. But it's hard to sound that way when your nasal passages are blocked," he assured her, wincing slightly. "Back to the matter at hand, do you have any theories about how this could be? Even in the wizarding world, this is rather impossible."_

"_You were conceived a year after the wedding," she said. Shaking her head, she realized that her calculation was wrong, "No, wait-two years."_

"_Two years and seven months," he corrected her. "I even know it down to the very second because grandfather is excruciatingly precise about the moment that I-the wretched excuse for a wizard-was born into the world. And he never lets me forget it."_

"_He broke your hand again, didn't he?" she asked, her free hand trailing along the fragile bones. The splinters from the shattered bones poked through his thin skin, causing a pained gasp to pass through his lips._

"_More like he rebroke what Black already damaged," he shrugged as though it was of no consequence to him. She knew it for the lie it was-that was his wand hand. The dominant hand he used for his potions. There was the slightest of shivers as she applied the slightest of magics, feeling them knit together under her fingertips._

"_Sev, I know I made you promise to leave them alone, to stay out of their way this year because crossing them has never left you the victor. You've always been the one harmed, not them. But that plan is obviously not working. This was done out of pure spite," Lily exclaimed, angered beyond belief. "I should…spell them that if they even __**think**__ about harming you, they get a case of diarrhea so bad, they would be humiliated by rumors of their lack of bladder control."_

_Severus laughed. It was a strange sound, half amused and half bitter. "As amusing as that would be, Anmchara, they would find a way to blame me for what happened. I thank you all the same for wanting to defend me from them."_

"_What are older sisters for?" she teased, satisfied that his nose was done bleeding._

"_Older?" he asked, looking at her with a raised eyebrow, grateful the pressure was gone._

"_I was born in December, while you were born in February of the next year," Lily smirked, looking eerily like him in that moment. She spelled her handkerchief clean and put it away._

"_See, that makes no sense. Your spell clearly shows that my mother is your own. Yet, I was born two months later. If we truly are half-siblings, why is it not my father who is your own?"_

_She shrugged, "You're the one raised in the wizrding world, not me. Can't you just write to your family and ask?"_

"_Oh, yes because that will work," he dryly replied, pushing himself up. "We have lived with my grandfather since my father's death. I highly doubt that he would let her answer such a query, if my mother received my letter at all."_

_Hugging him, she rested her head against his heart, listening to the steady rhythm. "I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling his hand rub her back comfortingly._

"_I'm used to it," he softly replied._

"_Being used to it doesn't make it all right. Why does he hate you so much?"_

"_I look like my wastrel father and have no true wizardly traits._"

The memory started to fade away and Harry looked up at him, noting the traces of tears on his face. "It was just a few days after that when I received a letter from the estate manager about my mother. She had committed suicide. That was what I was reading when your father decided to relieve the boredom of his friends by means of my personal humiliation in front of the school."

"Yes, you called my mum-_your sister_-a mudblood," Harry's face flushed with anger and shame at the memory. As hard as he tried to eject Snape from his mind, the one time he'd succeeded was the one time he wished he hadn't. The memory haunted him.

"It was a code between us, Harry. It meant that I really needed to talk to her," he tiredly explained. "Lily was crazy. She basically decided that since all the elements of life was in the break down of mudblood, that's what it really meant-essence of life."

"Really?" he skeptically asked.

"Yes, Harry, _really_," he emphasized the word. "I could even show you her journals if you have doubts about it. Only she would have come up with something that outlandish, I was never that creative."

"She kept journals?" he asked, momentarily distracted.

"Lily knew she would not live to see you grow up and wanted you to know all about her. The prophecy was not Trelawney's alone. It was shared by Lily. I was one of the few who heard the whole thing. And I knew, as did she, that there were only two families the prophecy spoke of-yours and the Longbottom's."

Harry had sunk to the ground, head on his drawn up knees, listening to him. Snape's face was distant, seeing things that were far away from them. In that moment, Harry never felt more like a stranger to him.

"Albus believed that he would choose the Longbottom's," he rubbed his neck. "Lily was not as sure as he was. She felt it would not be that easy. In her honest opinion, Voldemort would take no chances-he would kill both babies. Why take the chance of destroying the wrong child in a fit of self-righteous judgment? She knew, unlike many else, just how far he would go to win and the lives of two innocent babies meant nothing to him."

Harry had a sickening feeling that he did not want to hear this. "You…she…you told Voldemort the prophecy, didn't you?" he finally managed to ask.

"It was tell him or die-you've heard of the unbreakable vow. I've made so many in my life, I cannot rightly call my life my own. Anyway, Lily would have made an excellent Slytherin-much like you would save that the both of you have a serious flaw-she could rival Albus with her manipulation abilities. I am still reeling, trying to figure just how she got me to agree to such a foolish thing. She manipulated him as easily as she did me."

"One flaw?" Harry asked, focusing on the one inconsequential thing Severus had said. It was the only way he could keep from focusing on the other things he'd said, the other things he was implying. "What was that?"

"Both of you take no thought to plan everything out. There is too much impulsivity inside of you for it. Strategy will never be your strong suit," Severus smirked before his face fell back into sober lines. "I tried to do my best to get her to _**think**_ beyond three moves but was unsuccessful. She could be damned determined and focused when she wanted to be. She never stopped trying to find out why we had the same mother-but for other things, she was not so dedicated."

"So, you don't know," he commented, disappointed.

"After my mother's death, I could never bring myself to think about her past," he simply replied, not sure if he should apologize or not. It didn't seem like the kind of thing he should have to-yet, Harry was so disappointed. "There was just too much pain involved."

"Were you and your mother close?"

"Close?" he snorted at the idea. "My mother frowned upon such an idea. But she was there for me when I displeased grandfather. He was disappointed in me. In the fact that mother refused to remarry and replace me as sole heir. The greatest disappointment for him was that my latent talent for parseltongue did not show up until after his death-he never knew. To this day, I cannot decide it that is a good thing or not."

"Your family spoke parseltongue?!?" he exclaimed, truly shocked. "I thought only Voldemort spoke it, that I got it from him."

He bitterly laughed, "Now, I wonder who told you that? Parseltongue isn't a trait of those who are descended from Salazar, the language is up far older than that. We tend to forget about that. Your mother was one of the finest speakers, she translated a few of Salazar'a journals-he refused to write in any other language. She charmed the portraits in my quarters to speak parseltongue only and made sure that they would only allow those of my bloodline to enter my sanctuary without invitation. That, by the way, is _**not**_ an invitation. Do not show up and ask for entrance unless it is an emergency, are we understood?"

Harry nodded, sure he could think of any number of reasons to show up at his uncle's. "Can I see more of your memories of my mum? No one talks about her, they only tell me about my dad. And, while he _is_ my dad, I'd like to get to know my mum too."

Severus didn't have the heart to refuse when he looked at him. Though he knew they should be preparing for the fight, that there was no time for such frivolities, he could not find it in his heart to refuse the boy anything he asked for in that moment. Those eyes stared at him, hopeful but also ready for rejection. Sitting down, he rested his hand on Harry's shoulder, "Of course we can."

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It had been six days since the start of Voldemort's siege on the school. Though the twins had done their best, it looked as if he meant to stay right there. They had received no word from their contacts back at Hogwarts.

Still, they were reluctant to yield the school to him. It may not have been Hogwarts but it had its own power source-the Hellmouth itself. And the knowledge that if Voldemort had access to it, they would be lost, constantly punished them.

The phone rang and Giles answered it, startled to hear the Mayor's voice. "What do you want?" he snapped, not feeling guilty at all. The past few days had taken a toll on them all.

"Help," the man gasped out before the phone dropped. A loud crashing sound was heard right before the unmistakable sound of shattering glass.

"Mayor Wilkins?" Giles asked, concern coming to the forefront. Over the live, he could hear the oddest tearing sound, "Are you all right?"

There was a strangled cry and silence. "What's going on?" Buffy asked, staring at him.

"I'm not sure-that was the Mayor. He called for help," Giles slowly replied, straining to hear _**anything**_ over the line. "It sounded like there was a struggle going on before I lost him."

Albus rested his hand on Buffy's shoulder, face grave. "I believe this is something that we should handle immediately. Fear not, we shall return."

"Voldemort has forced the Ascension upon the Mayor, has he not?" Kendra asked, practicing in the corner. Though her moves were fluid, there was a rigidness to her patterns that she could not disguise. It was obvious that her attempts to talk to her Watcher and get him to see reason, to help them out, had failed. "He called for help because he was not prepared for it to occur. In a way, he wished to warn us about the danger we were in."

"That's my guess-and hope. If he wasn't ready, his death will be that much easier to accomplish," Albus said. "Are you ready to face a true demon?"

"No," Buffy answered bluntly, "Let's go anyway."

They disappeared.

"Do not fear for Buffy. She is with Headmaster Dumbledore and he, despite his loony habits, knows what he is doing."

"Thank you, Kendra. I know in my head that you speak the truth, it is my heart that is having the trouble," he sighed, "Any word from the camp?"

"None, though it looks like Kingsley is with them," Sirius replied. "Tall, handsome Moorish man, you'd like him. He has a real sense of the absurd ironies of life."

"Sounds interesting," Cordy replied, her voice exceptionally bored. "I'd love to hear more but there's just something that I have to do."

"About?" Xander asked, concerned. Out of them all, only Cordy showed signs of cabin fever.

"The way they look," she replied, leaving before anyone caught what she said.

Xander's head shot up and he looked panicked, "Did she just say that she was going to talk fashion with them?" All of them bolted from the room, knowing that an answer was pointless.

Nearing the door, the heard her, "Hey, ugly! I'm sure there's not enough money to make that face of yours into anything resembling that of a true leader but come on! There are hundreds of designers who could make you look impressive."

"I don't need to _look_ impressive, idiot muggle. I _am_ impressive."

"Keep telling yourself that, Tommy, and I'm sure that even you will believe it. But as long as you're in a look so dated even Attila the Hun would be ashamed to see it, it won't happen any time soon," she snapped, totally unimpressed by his words. "You might think it inspires fear and awe, but I can tell you that it's the smell that does that."

"How dare you talk to me like that? Do you have any idea who I am?" he demanded, a part of him screaming in rage while the other half just sat, dazedly staring at her.

"Besides being a fashion victim so hopeless even _Queer Eye for the Straight Guy_ would give up on you? I could care less," she glared at him, daring him to say something else. "Because of you, I've been stuck in this same outfit with little chance to get anywhere approaching a state of being decently clean. I am going home and you-you overgrown, badly dressed whey faced, pasty looking doofus-will stay out of my way. You may think you're some kind of big bad, but I assure you, I am far worse."

It had to be shock that kept his wand hand down, he thought as he watched the woman stalk off through his troops. Had to be, shock was a normal thing. It couldn't be fear, not of some…some muggle who had no magical abilities whatsoever. A man of his abilities, of his power, couldn't possibly be intimidated by that slip of a thing.

So, he comforted himself with the thought that it was only shock holding him immobile. His look challenged his followers to defy his belief. Wisely, they looked away.

Sirius half-laughed, half-choked, "Is that all it would take to defeat him? Insult his wardrobe enough that we could sneak in and kill him?"

"Only if you can carry it off like Cordy does," Xander replied, shutting the door. "Scary thing about her is, she means it. That was no act. If there is one thing she takes seriously, it's her sense of style."

"I'll remember that," Sirius commented. He admired the girl for her sheer bravery in doing something that no one else would have dared to do. Not many in the wizarding world would have the guts and self-possession to do what she did. The chit had spunk.

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"We can't wait any longer," Severus announced on the eighth day of the siege. His face bore the same expression it usually did but those who looked hard could see the strain of worry in his eyes. "Not only are we putting my Slytherins in further danger but we there are greater problems arising from our stay here. We are running out of food and chemicals that make decent explosives. Hit and run is damaging them severely thanks to the constant efforts of the Weasley twins-but it is slowly weakening us as well."

"Professor Snape is right," Hermione quickly interjected, stopping Ron's quick defense of his brothers cold. "We need to take out larger chunks of his army. All we're doing now is pecking at his feet, being a minor inconvenience. In order to be on more equal footing, we _have_ to take out more of his forces. There is only so much we can do this way and I don't think any of us is really prepared to kill a human being. What we need is a way to get the humans out of the way that won't harm us-and will also buy our reinforcements time to arrive."

"Heard something the rest of us haven't been privileged to hear, have you?" he snidely asked, rubbing his side when Harry jabbed him with an elbow.

"_**YES!**_" Charlie joyously shouted, dashing into the room, further stopping any argument between them. Ron's owl sat on his arm, an almost happy look on its face. "Mum says that with Fudge gone, the new Minister-a Minister Scrimgeour-is activating all available teams of aurors to come to our aid. We just have to hold on for a few more hours."

"Which we don't have," Remus idly commented, diving under the table. "EVERYONE DOWN!" his shout came just as an explosion sounded, rattling against the windows. Though they trembled, the spells binding them held.

It was an inglorious way to start the final battle.

End, Part 22


	23. Survival In The Aftermath of The Battle

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Severus' head was crying.

His thoughts stuttered to a stop, knowing that there was something inherently wrong with that statement. A head couldn't possibly cry, therefore, someone must be crying over his head or near it.

"You stupid, reckless git! How could you do that? How could you?" the voice sobbed, tears falling onto his face. They tasted salty as they slid into his slightly opened mouth, barely dampening his dry tongue.

"Harry, he didn't have a choice," Remus soothed him. Or tried to, in all reality, he wasn't entirely sure that what Severus did was the only option available to him.

"Sacrifice his life?" Harry hysterically laughed. "After all of his words that he had no intention of doing so?"

"No. I sacrificed my magic," croaked Severus, finally finding the strength to crack an eye open to glance at him. "The only way to stop his _Avada Kedavra_ curse cold and rebound it back upon him was to use all that I had."

"You nearly died," Harry cried.

"But I did not," he closed his eye again, breathing deeply. "I did not. A power greater than any hate he held for us was over me-your love and belief in me."

"But why did you do it? Your magic is everything to you," he protested, "It's all you've ever known."

"I feared James Potter's reaction if I were to fail and you paid the price," he weakly joked. An almost harsh smack startled him and his eyes flew open, seeing the stricken look in Harry's eyes at his flippancy. "Harry, you mean more to me than magic."

It was the closest thing to an _I love you_ that Harry would ever receive.

Remus felt it best to leave them alone. Aimlessly walking, he saw Buffy tending to her own wounds mechanically. A sudden realization hit him-Kendra had died. Lucius had killed her while she had defended Draco from his wrath. He knew that the blond wizard lay a few feet away from the fallen Slayer, face frozen into a look of manic fury.

Sirius had killed the wizard without a thought or doubt. His only word to Severus had been protection-he would protect his nephew and godson from killing their first person for as long as he could. He, like the rest of them, knew that once you killed a man, it changes you. It leaves a mark upon you that doesn't go away. Even though it would have been in self-defense, once you kill, it haunts you.

He walked on, knowing that Giles was the one person she needed to see, to hear. The only one from whom she would accept comfort. No one else's words would penetrate the haze that clouded her mind. He was truly grateful that Ms. Chase had convinced Mrs. Summers to leave, even though she'd wanted to stay close to her daughter.

He noticed Ron and Hermione sleeping, an exhausted Amy between them, both girls' arms were tightly bound to their waists. And yet, despite their injuries, both women had been invaluable on the field, especially where the twins had been concerned. The twins, his mind faltered as he remembered the terrible blast Bellatrix had sent at them.

The both of them had flown back against the school, the crunching sounds of their bones upon impact echoing into the night like a shot. If not for Charlie's quick killing curse, she might've finished them off. As it was, they had been sent straight to St. Mungo's, Poppy's skills were of little use to them.

Willow and Oz were softly talking, watching Xander out of the corner of their eyes. Remus noticed that she was fingering the amulet restlessly and suppressed a sigh, wondering how long it would be before she ripped it off. That thing had prevented Voldemort from victory but he could tell that she was irritated with it.

Then his eyes fell upon the resting teen, guilt filling him. If not for his slip in concentration while fighting that ghoul, the young man would not be lying there. As it was, his life force had been leeched considerably before Remus had been able to defeat and disperse it. For the first time, he cursed the shields that prevented them from sending him to Hogwarts.

Turning away, he walked outside, ignoring the dead that littered the ground. The sounds of sobbing caught his ear and he turned towards it, seeing Minerva huddled up around herself, over Albus' body. An irreverent thought came to mind, Albus would never know the truth about Severus and Lily's familial relationship now. Before he could go over to offer his comfort, she straightened up, "He's all yours, Fawkes," he heard her softly say.

Watching the phoenix intently, he missed it when he was joined by Sirius. "I'm sorry for everything," the man finally said once the ashes had been scattered by the wind and Minerva who disappeared once it was over. "It's just that I never thought it would come out. So, what good would it do to say anything?"

Slowly, he looked at his friend, startled, "What…oh," realization dawned in his eyes. "Well, I guess I understand why you didn't tell us about Lily and Severus. It wasn't your secret to share-but your doubts about me and my loyalty hurts. You couldn't even tell me to my face what you believed about me and that hurts," he said, looking back at the spot Albus had been.

"My greatest regret were you are concerned is that I never asked for your forgiveness after I escaped. Yes, I did apologize before but it wasn't a real apology. I never explained anything to you. I just believed that you would be there for me as you've always been, even when I did not support you or help you as a real friend should have. I should have told you the truth but I did not. And there's no point in asking _what if_, I was a fool."

"But why didn't you tell me?" Remus asked, pleading with him. "You knew me and what kind of person I was."

"And Peter played on that," Sirius quietly answered him. "He pointed out that you never had the strength to stop me and James from teasing Severus even though you disapproved deeply. You were made a prefect to try to minimize the damage we did-but you never could get up the courage to call us out about our behavior. You scolded, but never really acted upon your threats. He also reminded me that you were as close to James as I was. If they disappeared, they would go after us-and we wouldn't be able to resist Voldemort's imperios and tortures. He pointed out that everyone knew he was weak, they would not suspect him of keeping such a secret."

"Peter was in deep, wasn't he?" Remus asked, almost bitterly. "He had to have been planning this for years. What caused him to fall and us to hold true? What made him yield?"

"I wish I knew. May be the answer isn't one thing but several small slights done to him over the years. Or may be he was just the jealous type," Sirius said. "We don't know what his home life was like, we never really cared about him that much to ask. I think that was our mistake with Severus. We saw what we wanted to see, not what was really there. I'm not saying that we created all of his problems, we didn't make him a Death Eater. But we didn't leave him with many options either. What?"

Remus' head shook, "Who are you and what have you done to the real Sirius Black?"

"I grew up," he shrugged, "And stopped seeing the stereotypes that have perpetuated our world for so long. But, Remus, it is so _**hard**_. I feel like that I've had to grow up faster than I was prepared for. And then, I think about Harry and feel so guilty about wanting to rewind time. How does he do it?"

"He's got the moral courage of his mother," Remus replied.

"Yeah, he does at that," Sirius laughed loudly and freely for the first time in a very long time, his arm slung across Remus' shoulder comfortingly. It felt good and, for the first time, he truly felt free of the shadow of the past. "Out of all of us, she was the most Gryffindor. And can you just hear Severus now, telling us not to insult her? That bravery and courage is not limited to Gryffindor alone?"

654321

"What do you think will happen now?" Willow asked, resting her head on Oz's shoulder.

"We survive," Oz replied.

"As ever, you are the soul of comfort to me," she teased. Her gaze fell on Xander's pale face and noted his raspy breathing. "Do you think he'll be all right? He's my brother, I don't know what I'd do without him."

A pop sounded and a matronly woman with gray hair pulled back into a bun appeared just off to the right. Her eyes fell upon Xander and she gasped, snapping angrily at them when she saw them just sitting there. "Are you barbarians that you would prolong his suffering like this? You, get me some warm water and some medicine. You, help me lay him out on one of these tables. I need him higher if I'm to work. This isn't ideal but it will have to do. Lumos!"

Their corner of the room was brightly illuminated. Oz helped her move Xander while Willow scurried off to get the desired items. Charlie looked up as she passed in a whirlwind of energy, instantly alert. But the alarm hadn't gone off, "Where's the emergency?" he asked, just in case he had missed it.

"Funny lady, warm water, medicine for Xander," she babbled as she went racing by. There was barely a pause in her moves, "Helping her because she's helping him."

"Right," Charlie slowly said, deciding to follow after the girl, wondering if she ever bothered to breath. At the rate she was going, she'd most likely do herself an injury and feel extremely guilty about it. Besides, being around another redhead (even one as strange as _**that**_ one) would be a comfort now that Bill had gone to look after their mum.

Weird she may have been but at least she was alive.

_Boy, was she alive_, he ruefully thought, watching as she bounced around the lab, heating water using the stove. "Pardon me for asking," he winced at her shriek of fright and the pans that suddenly clattered to the floor, water going every where. "Sorry, but wouldn't it be easier to use a heating spell?"

"A what?" she asked, pulling out a mop to soak up the spill.

"Never mind," he shrugged. "Why don't I take the pans of water to the _funny lady_ while you clean this up. Does she have a name?"

"She didn't say, but I think she's a healer of some kind," Willow answered, wringing out the mop in the sink.

"Madame Pomfrey," he said with a smile, levitating the pans easily. "I'll be back soon."

"I'll still be here," she replied, slapping the floor with the mop again. Water sprayed up and into her face, she blinked it away, shaking her head. The mop soaked up the water and she once more had to squeeze it out. One hand reflexively fingered her dragon amulet, flushing as she jerked her hand away before she could undo the clasp.

Professor Snape's stinging admonition rang in her ears. '_That amulet is for your protection as much as it is for our own. I don't care if it itches or you find it difficult to breath, you __**will**__ leave it on_.'

There was definitely an unspoken threat to his words. One she daren't try to finish. She was pretty sure that her imagination was far more grisly than anything Snape could come up with-and that he was counting on that.

The mop sloppily hit the ground again. Itches didn't quite cover what it did to her. Fire ants would have been far more merciful compared to what she was going through at that precise moment and she deeply resented its existence even if she understood _why_ she had to wear it.

"My dear, I know there's some pain but until you have more control and we can be assured that Voldemort is really gone, you are a danger," Professor Flitwick tried to comfort her.

"Then why doesn't Professor Snape wear one? He's as powerful as me," she bitterly retorted.

"Oh, but my dear, he had to wear one for years until James saved him, thus establishing a bond between them in the form of a wizard's debt. That debt made wearing the amulet useless. I do not advocate having a wizard life debt placed upon you in exchange for freedom from the amulet. In many ways, the life debt is far worse than wearing a simple amulet. Your pains are caused by the fact that you are fighting against it. Once you have accepted its place, you will get better," he promised. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Her answer, when it came, was absent sounding. She'd never thought of that and she felt guilt fill her for her resentment of wearing such a nice piece of jewelry. Professor Snape wore a bond that could not be removed-the wizarding debt itself decided when it was finished, not the wizards involved. They had no control. "No, though you could ask Ron's brother-the one with the half and half colored hair."

"Ah, you mean Charlie," he informed her cheerfully, glad that she was thinking about his words. It certainly made dealing with her easier when she was in a pleasant state of mind as opposed to this depressed, almost viciously angry one.

"Someone call?" he asked, nodding to the professor. "Willow, that _funny lady_ has asked for some thick cotton bandages and some medicine to dull the pain your friend is feeling. She says he looks far worse than he is."

"Ok, you can stop making fun of me. What's her name again?"

"Madame Poppy Pomfrey," he replied, smiling widely. "And why should I stop? That's such an interesting shade for your face."

"You are so mean to me," she groaned, half tempted to hurl the mop at him. "I don't think we _**have**_ cotton bandages. Synder would find them dreadfully expensive but we do have cotton sheets. Do you think they'll work?" She started off, mop in hand.

"Are you planning to clean as we go?"

"What?" she asked, following his gaze to the mop. This time, she didn't resist and whacked him with it before tossing it into the sink.

654321

Summer vacation finally came and, for the first time in memory, Harry was anxious to get home to the Dursley's. Severus had said there would be a surprise waiting for him. Stepping off of the train, he looked around and saw his despicable relatives waiting off to the side, a disdainful look on their faces. Quickly hiding a grin, he walked towards them, dragging his stuff along with him.

"About time you showed up," Uncle Vernon snarled at him. "Get in." There was an underlying threat and taunt in the voice that set Harry's back up.

"Now, that is no way to talk to the young man who is responsible for the continuation of your admittedly pathetically miserable excuse for a life," a voice smoothly poured into the large area, making it seem infinitely smaller than before. Harry jumped, knowing that voice. It was one he had not heard in a while and he shivered, glad he wasn't on the receiving end. He turned and looked at him, wondering what he was doing there.

"How dare you talk to me like that, you…" Vernon's voice trailed off as he turned and took in the sight of the tall, angular, and darkly clothed man. The man he was looking at frightened him far more than the giant ever did, though he could not say for sure why. Although, he suspected the look in his eyes that promised death might be a part of it. "You have no right to interfere in this family matter."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," he silkily began, eyes narrowed. He did not like the look of this man in front of him. His family was not much better-especially the boy called Dudley. They may have feared Harry, but that was no excuse for their behavior.

"Are you one of his professors?" he scoffed on the title, sheer bluster carrying him past his fright. "You have no legal right to get involved in a discussion between family members."

"He might not-yet," a voice ominously said from above, "But I believe that I do."

Their eyes went skywards and an angelic faced redhead floated down, green eyes snapping with fire. Her finger pointed at Petunia's thin face, accusingly, "How dare you treat my son in such a dreadful manner? Your own flesh and blood, treated worse than a mongrel on the street because of your jealousy and fear. I've a good mind to curse you to the bowels of Hell for your neglect and hate-but what would you learn from that experience? Where is the profit in such outright punishment?"

She let the questions hand in the air for a moment, staring at them contemplatively. "Nice to know you can still think for in your silence you reveal the answer. No, I think a more fitting punishment is to become servants to the one you did your best to enslave. And the sad thing is, all Harry ever asked from you was your love.

"Severus, my brother, if you would do the honors," she invited, finally landing on the ground.

Petunia's eyes widened-but not at the brother reference, "You aren't my sister," she pushed the words through a throat that was suddenly constricted, "Your face is wrong. Your voice and that accent it's…it is _American_!"

Willow laughed, "To bad you didn't figure that out _before_ you were punished. We might've been able to negotiate something then. Oh, well, I'm sure you'll learn quickly enough."

Harry stared at the house elves that had been his relatives. "Do you think that was wise. I mean, it seems cruel."

"Harry, they will be restored to their natural, nasty selves at summer's end-but I hope they will be wiser for the experience," he said, opening the car door. "Now, let's go home. Giles and the rest should be waiting there for us." He said the words as though he'd swallowed something nasty and Willow laughed, knowing that he really liked having them there.

He'd just be stubborn and never admit it, that's all.

"Will they have someone to help them out?"

"Yes, I have asked for Dobby to help guide them through their new lives, as well as many other Hogwarts' elves," Severus rolled his eyes, then explained. "Harry, I would not leave them to flounder uselessly about, though I do believe that they more than deserve it after what they did to you. But I, unlike some around here, actually think and plan my moves."

Harry ignored the remark, mind at ease concerning his family. He got into the car, "Do you know how to drive?" he asked, fastening his seat belt.

"No," Severus baldly said. "But my magic does-and I can use it."

The End.

_Author's Note: This epic one shot is finally finished. After, what, almost three years, my story is completed. Unfortunately, there are some gaps in the tale that sounded like they would play a part and then fizzled out when I really got to the heart of the tale-which is really the story of Severus Snape and his nephew, Harry Potter._

_If ever I decide to pick up the Buffy/Harry muse again, this is the story I will start off with. I will flesh out the details-though I will continue to ignore the story for it stopped being cannon about the time of GoF. It especially doesn't fit in with OotP, HBP, and DH. There are hints of those tales, there are places where pieces of those stories come into play, but on the whole, they are not a part of the story. I am thankful to JK Rowling for granting us a view of her world and allowing us in._

_But as it stands, the muse has departed for the land of Lord of the Rings and I must follow where she leads for she is my Mistress and I am her willing, devoted follower. I thank everyone for their support, patience, and constant hoping that I will find it in me to finish this tale. I hope that it lives up to expectations. Blessed readings and journeys into the realms beyond what our physical eyes see, one grateful author._


End file.
